For the Sake of Peace
by MochiUs
Summary: Some marry for love. Some marry because it was arranged for them. And some marry for the sake of peace.
1. Chapter 1

A boisterous laugh was heard. "Wait for me!"

The maids cleaning the castle walls and floors looked up from their work to stare at the world's most beloved couple. They were frolicking in the gardens, and though they would most likely gain an earful from the chief gardener afterwards, the loving smiles they passed on to each other were infectious. Those smiles usually reserved between lovers could not be wiped away by a mere lecture.

One maid dreamily sighed. "Look at Prince Katsuki. He looks so dashing when he's in love."

The maids focused on the aforementioned prince, who was chasing after his betrothed with what looked to be a genuine smile. They swooned for it was uncommon to see their prince so relaxed and love-struck. It was more common to see a predatory grin or clenched teeth from the hot-headed man, so this version was like a refreshing breath of air.

"Yeah," another maid agreed. She then added, "When he proclaimed his love for Prince Izuku from the enemy country, it caused such a stir."

A different maid clutched her bosom and recalled the monumental event. "Star-crossed lovers," she said with hearts in her eyes. "Their love was doomed from the start since our kingdoms were warring for years, but they persisted."

She paused and took a moment to watch Prince Izuku place a handmade flower crown atop his fiancé's head. It was a sweet moment, and anybody with a pair of eyes could tell how much trust they had for each other. The product resulted in a tangled mess of flowers and Prince Katsuki's unruly locks, but that didn't matter as the two ventured further from the gardens.

"Love won in the end," she said with emotion, a teardrop threatening to slip from the corners of her eyes. "Tensions between our kingdoms are still high, but the fighting is over. Our armies are returning. For once in a decade, our generation can live in peace."

A more jaded, older maid spat out, "Yeah right."

Instead of mingling with her coworkers, the woman continued doing her job and scrubbing the floors. "Stop wasting time with that nonsense," she said. "I bet it's all just a show to end the war."

The maid from earlier turned up her nose. "You're just bitter that Prince Katsuki is now taken. Unlike you," she clasped her hands together, "I give them my blessings and wish for them eternal happiness in their marriage."

The other woman scoffed at her naïve outlook.

Unbeknownst to the positive-minded maid and other people with the same opinion, the relationship between Prince Katsuki and Prince Deku was rocky from the get-go.

One prime example was the rough and unmerciful way Katsuki threw Izuku over his shoulder once there were no prying eyes to witness this debacle. The young prince made a choked sound as he was unexpectedly tossed to the ground like a sack of rice. He then clumsily heaved himself up and coughed out the dirt entering his mouth. When he lifted his head, he saw Katsuki slam the flower crown to the ground, stomping its measly petals repeatedly as if the action would erase everything that conspired a few minutes ago.

Katsuki pointed an accusing finger at him, a snarl evident on his face. "Don't you dare touch me like that ever again," he warned.

"Well, what did you expect?" Izuku replied back snappishly and gestured his hand between them. "I had to make our relationship believable."

Izuku slowly stood up, patting away the dust and small rocks that littered his shirts and pants. "I'm surprised," he said coldly. "I didn't know you could act so well, _Kacchan_."

Katsuki made a move to smack his fiancé's infuriating freckled face, but Izuku saw this coming and blocked his attack. This lovey-dovey fiasco was all an act. He despised the predicament they were stuck in, but beggars can't be choosers. Izuku grimaced, hating how the supposedly endearing nickname rolled off his tongue, but sacrifices had to be made.

Katsuki was romantically inept to say the least. His actual best was to plaster on a dashing smile and stick to his supposed lover like glue, but once they stepped out of the limelight, Katsuki would automatically distance himself and would gratefully poke Izuku with a meter stick to ensure there was space between them.

Katsuki, who continued to comb through his untamable hair to catch any stray petals, retorted, "Shut up, _Deku_."

Izuku frowned. He disliked that nickname.

"I don't like it when you call me that," he said.

"Too bad," Katsuki retorted in a snide voice. "Everyone else calls you that anyway."

Izuku sighed. This was not the first and this will not be the last time they argued over their nicknames. "Well, it's your fault they call me that."

Deku meant useless, meaningless. While Katsuki managed to keep a cutesy nickname, Izuku was stuck with a tasteless one. It didn't take a genius to understand the insulting term.

When Katsuki accidentally called him Deku in public instead of private, a reporter caught that slip and pointed out its derogatory meaning, thereby questioning the validity of their relationship. If the truth was revealed, their plans would have gone up in flames. All of their hard work to establish their romance would be ruined.

Izuku had to improvise and fed the reporter absolute bullshit about its alternative meaning. Katsuki cannot recall the finer details of the exchange, but thankfully, the general audience was a gullible bunch and ate that crap up.

The two men were hapless and hopeless in the romance department; they understood that. After all, where would they find the time to court someone when there was a war raging in their backyard? As much as they would like to watch each other's demise, they had mutually consented to this arrangement because this marriage can end the war. This marriage can bring their kingdoms peace.

* * *

Personally, Izuku believed that his standards were reasonably low. Even though they were pathetically low, they were still considered standards.

He dragged Katsuki to the back once they made their obligatory daily appearance to the nobles. He fumed as he searched for a more private setting and settled for the break room typically reserved for the servants.

"What was that?" he hissed to his husband-to-be.

Today they had a mandatory meeting with their subordinates. Overall, the purpose of that meetup was to prove to those snot-nosed asshats that they were indeed helplessly in love, and that this marriage was not some hot summer fling. This formal meeting was supposed to be a way for them to rub their gross and disgusting love in front of their snobbish faces.

However, their petty revenge was spoiled all thanks to Katsuki. Since Izuku was the main drive of their romantic endeavors yesterday, it was Katsuki's turn to woo their audience.

Katsuki lifted one brow, obviously clueless to the severity of his actions.

"What the fuck are you going on about?"

Izuku bit his tongue to hold back the string of words he wanted to inflict onto this insufferable man. Deep breaths, he told himself. Deep breaths.

"You caught a bird bare-handed," he said with gritted teeth. "And then," his voice peaking to a mortified tone, "You almost choked the poor thing while handing it to me like it was nothing!"

"It was a gift," Katsuki said.

He rolled his eyes. Obviously his fiancé wasn't culturally competent enough to recognize the telltale signs of courtship in his kingdom. "You're welcome."

Izuku threw up his arms in exasperation. "You can't just do that kind of stuff out of the blue," he whined. "Half of the people in the meeting were from my kingdom, remember?"

Katsuki didn't bat an eye. "So?"

Izuku began pacing around, a common nervous tic he inherited from his mother. His hands itched for his stress balls, but his collection was left in his room.

"So?" he said, aghast. "They don't know your traditions!"

His pace quickened. He moved around in circles. His mind was on overdrive.

"My mother and father sent those officials to watch over me," he mumbled to himself as he laid out the consequences. "When they return home, they'll definitely report this incident. Most likely my parents will decide that we are not suited to wed."

God, Katsuki can practically taste the anxiety leaking from the man's hormones.

"Then the wedding will be canceled. There'll be nothing to stop our parents from heading back into war. All our efforts will be for naught. People will continue to die. And then-"

Katsuki slammed his fist against the wall, caging Izuku to the wall with a murderous glare.

"Shut. Up."

Here, he seemed daunting, intimidating.

Although their height difference was not as profound as other couples, Katsuki still gained some centimeters over Izuku. The blond-haired man looked down at him as if he was his superior, and in terms of battle prowess, he was. The urge to cower down was great, but Izuku refused to surrender to his urges. Instead, he allowed the hot flash of anger to replace his anxieties and pushed away Katsuki's chest. Sure, he was not as physically adept as the other man, but he can hold his own weight.

With their current circumstances, it seemed as if he was the only one pulling the weight of their relationship.

"I don't get it," he said, shaking his head. "You don't make sense."

"Hah?"

"Here I am, trying to convince two kingdoms that we're madly in love with each other, but here you are," he gestured at Katsuki's everything, "Acting like you don't give a crap about this even though you're the one who proposed this idea in the first place."

An explosion erupted from Katsuki's hand. The man looked as if he was ready to fight, already in a stance to battle it out. "Fuck you," he said with restrained fury. "You think I'm not trying?"

"Well, it would have been nicer if you had put in more effort," Izuku interjected back with his hands on his hips.

"Look at you, acting all high and mighty as if you're better than me," Katsuki spat out. "News flash, your acting sucks balls as well."

"I'm not saying I'm better-"

"I know what I heard!" Another explosion went off.

The repugnant smell of smoke and fuel permeated the room, causing Izuku to instinctively cover his mouth and nose. It reminded him of his days as a medical aid during the brunt of the war. Thankfully, the smell of burning flesh was not included into this nauseating mix, but it was still too strong for him to handle.

"Fine," he said hurriedly while holding his breath.

He was antsy to leave the room, desperate to get as far away from the source as possible. At this point, he doesn't care if Katsuki could hear his muffled voice. Besides, this conversation was going nowhere anyway.

"I'm leaving," he said with a constrained voice. His oxygen was depleting rapidly. "I'll think of something else to convince the people."

With that, he rushed out of the room and accidentally slammed the door in his haste. He winced. A stab of guilt hit him when he thought of leaving Katsuki brooding by his lonesome, but the pressures of this marriage began to tire him. Even so, he should have done better in his rhetoric. His mother did not raise him in a barn to act this way. She would have been appalled to see him in such a state.

He sighed.

"Sorry," he apologized to no one in particular.

A burning sensation crept to the corners of his eyes, but this was not a place where he could freely cry over his troubles. He allowed himself to sniffle once and then swallowed down his inner turmoil. Blinking away the tears, he began to briskly walk down the halls, occasionally greeting the servants and the other residents of the castle.

This was his choice, Izuku bitterly reminded himself. Though Katsuki was the one who offered the olive branch, Izuku was the one who reached out and took it. Even if he was given a second chance to redo his decision, he would have done the same all over again.

"Stay positive," he murmured to himself even though the fate of thousands rested upon his hunched shoulders.

* * *

The next morning Izuku braced himself. Ever since he began living with Katsuki, the two agreed to share a meal together daily in order to not raise suspicion. Sadly, today's meal of the day was breakfast, and with yesterday's argument still fresh in his mind, Izuku was dreading the moment he had to enter the dining table and face Katsuki. After all, a tense atmosphere can ruin a good meal.

He took his seat and glanced at Katsuki, already hoarding the pancakes and stuffing them into his cheeks.

"G-good morning," he greeted stiffly.

Katsuki grunted in acknowledgement but did no further to initiate conversation. Rather, he was giving him the cold shoulder.

Izuku stared down at his sparse helping. "Thanks for saving me some," he muttered sarcastically.

Fortunately, he was not the type to fill his belly to the brim, but he wished Katsuki would have been more considerate after all these months they spent together. Well, then again, this type of interaction was an improvement compared to the first few months they spent together. They were practically at each other's throats. To let off some steam and resentment, they practiced hand-to-hand combat almost every day. It was pretty cathartic.

One observation Izuku made was the difference in table manners. Izuku couldn't help but wonder if it was customary of Katsuki's people to eat most of their food with their hands. Katsuki forwent the typical eating utensils and ripped the buttermilk pancakes with his bare hands. He then sloppily smeared them with maple syrup and crammed them into whatever space was left into his mouth. Even though Izuku should be used to this sight, he still grimaced as the man chewed his food with his mouth open. The inappropriate noises the man made unhinged him, scrubbed him the wrong way. However, Izuku was eternally grateful the man was not slathering hot sauce all over the hotcakes like last week. That was plain blasphemy.

Katsuki seemed to have finished eating since he was in the midst of suckling off the syrup from his fingers. Izuku eyed him cautiously, his instincts telling him that something was amiss. Usually Katsuki would have commented about his prissy style of eating by now, and yet he said nothing throughout the whole meal. No scathing remark was heard. Only silence.

Then he took unwrapped the packets of sanitary wipes by his side. Contradictory to his outward character, he meticulously cleaned his hands until they were almost spotless.

"Bad news," he said.

"Huh?" Izuku was midway cutting his pancakes into symmetrical pieces. "What do you mean?"

As if he pulled it out of thin air, a newspaper was in Katsuki's hands. Next, he slid it across the table until it landed adjacent to the unsuspecting man. Izuku peered over and glanced at the headlines. His heart stopped. His blood drained.

He didn't have to read the bold, black letters spread across the front page or the opinionated paragraphs underneath them. The photo accompanying the article insinuated enough. It was a snapshot of Izuku rushing out of the room with his hand over his mouth, and anybody with half a brain can assume that Katsuki was the reason for his apparent distress on the picture.

He tried to breathe.

This image gave the public the wrong idea.

Breathe.

The seed of doubt has already sprouted.

Breathe.

It was too late to recall the newspapers.

Breathe.

Their lie was already exposed.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Izuku panicked.

His fork and knife clattered on the plate. He stepped out his chair and began to pace around the table.

Questions fired off from his mouth. "Where was the reporter? How did I miss them? What should we do?"

He racked his head for ideas to rectify this, but to no avail, he couldn't find the answer.

"How do we fix this? Can we fix this? Why wasn't I more careful? Why-"

He bumped into a sturdy figure.

It was Katsuki. He held an unwavering expression.

Izuku doesn't understand how he could be so calm during these turbulent times.

Then Katsuki said, "Stop, Deku."

Miraculously, he did stop.

Without question, Katsuki grasped his shoulders and steered him to the nearest chair. Izuku felt numb as he was guided to take a seat, but even though he sorely wanted to stare into the void, he cannot afford to dissociate now.

He forced himself to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

Izuku whispered, "Kacchan, do you think…"

The blonde-haired man crossed his arms with a solemn expression. "No, I don't think the reporter knew the truth. I skimmed through the article's contents, but luckily it wasn't too scandalous."

He scrunched up the paper in his hands with a fierce look, a look that made Izuku look back at him with confusion. This Katsuki was strangely mild-mannered, he noticed. His temperament was too tame. Izuku half-expected him to overturn chairs and scorch the walls, but he did none of the above. However, the question about his behavior was left on the tip of his tongue. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

"If they knew the truth," Katsuki continued, "The idiot who wrote this would have written something more controversial than this hogwash."

Izuku gave the article a cursory read and nodded in agreement. He felt slightly flustered for overreacting over such a mediocre paper. The paper only hinted about an imminent breakup and held no clues about the actual reasons behind Izuku's departure from the room. Good, that means their secret is still safe.

Izuku rubbed his chin, his mind drifting off into the consequences. "For sure we'll be hoarded by the paparazzi very soon," he stated ominously.

He glanced at Katsuki, who already took a seat beforehand and steepled his fingers contemplatively. A flicker of annoyance passed through his face. "Shit, this is the worst possible setback."

Izuku tilted his head. "What do you mean?" he asked worriedly.

Katsuki turned his head and dirtily glared at him as if he was stupid. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Obviously missing the bigger picture here, Izuku replied, "… I'm sorry?"

"We're attending a ribbon cutting ceremony this afternoon."

That sounded familiar, but no dice. Izuku could sense Katsuki's patience waning with every second.

"The grand official opening of the Mustafu General Hospital," he said. "You appointed us to attend it without my permission," he added with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh."

"You had a speech prepped for the event."

The cogs were running. The puzzle piece was slotted. The key fitted into the lock.

"Oh," Izuku said. Then, with horror, " _Oh_."

Reporters would flock to the event like seagulls, ready to snag any worthy piece of gossip. The podium where he would recite his speech to thank the people who invested their time and money into the hospital would be hoarded by those information leeches. It would be catastrophic.

Katsuki smacked his palms against the table. Izuku jolted from where he sat.

"You know what?" he said with a determined gleam in his eye.

He turned his head until they made eye contact. "You," he pointed a finger at him, "Stop worrying. I'll figure it out."

"What?" Izuku made an affronted noise and stood up. "No, it's partially my fault we got into this mess."

Katsuki looked at him. He truly looked at him. "Do you trust me?" he asked him.

"Well, yeah, I guess I do since you're the accomplice, but-"

The blond gritted his teeth. He spoke with conviction and resolution like a stone wall. "Trust me."

Never in a million years had Izuku expected to hear those two words from his stubborn lips, but he did. Izuku stared back, bug-eyed, and dumbly nodded. Indeed, this Katsuki was different, and once this situation blows over, he would get to the bottom of this sudden personality shift.

"Okay," he said mindlessly, still nodding, "I trust you."

"Good," Katsuki said with finality and pushed in his chair.

"Go back to your room and change into your suit for the ceremony," he instructed him. "When you're done, come to my room."

These were easy instructions, and Izuku followed them to a T. Earlier, they had an ongoing debate over their assigned bed chambers and mutually agreed to have their own personal rooms whenever they needed a break from the other. Otherwise, they would have lost their insanity.

Izuku glanced back at the mirror and straightened his suit. He adorned a dark, navy blue three-piece with a floral print. The floral print was beautiful, displayed in different hues and shades of blue. The pattern itself was stunning in a way that simultaneously presented itself as not too flamboyant but classy as well. He was divided between a bow tie or a necktie, but the tiebreaker was the fact that he wore a bowtie in the last major party he attended. With matching tight slacks and a polished pair of loafers, his overall look was complete.

He combed through his messy hair and chuckled. Well, it was almost complete. He tugged on the lapels and smiled back at his dashing reflection.

"Ready," he told himself as if he was heading toward the frontlines, and really, he didn't miss the mark.


	2. Chapter 2

A resounding knock resonated within the room.

Though Izuku does not have x-ray vision, he was certain that it was not Katsuki because if it was him, his knocks would have shaken the framework of the door. This is speaking from experience.

"I'm coming," he said as he approached the door. "Hello?" he asked curiously as he opened a crevice.

"Hi!" An overly enthusiastic voice responded back.

Next, a scarred eye appeared in front of the sliver and blinked back at Izuku, who immediately yanked his door back to reveal Kirishima Eijirou, his fiancé's right-hand man. The green-haired prince let out a sigh of relief and smiled. It has been a while since the zealous warrior, who had a heart of gold that could even rival the fairest princess in the world, was absent. Izuku dearly missed his cordial personality and greeted him with a hug.

"I'm back," Kirishima laughed good-naturedly.

They had a brief meeting, but Kirishima's uncanny ability to befriend anybody, even an apex predator rumors say, was legendary. Just like the masses of hundreds, he managed to worm his way into Izuku's heart.

"What are you doing here?" Izuku beamed.

Although Kirishima was here, that didn't mean Izuku yearned for the companionship of his own friends. However, last he heard, Iida was occupied replacing his brother ever since he sustained lasting injuries in the war while Uraraka oversaw repairing most of the infrastructure between the two kingdoms. They were indeed remarkable people, and Izuku felt selfish for wishing their presence now.

Over Kirishima's bulky shoulder pads, Izuku saw a blonde-haired man standing behind him. He had golden hair with a conspicuous lightning-shaped streak on his bangs. His amber eyes glimmered with amusement, and he held an impressionable smile as he leaned toward one side of his body with crossed arms.

Then he spoke, teasingly, "Babe, if you hold him like that any longer, I might get jealous."

Kirishima released Izuku from his hold and turned around.

"Ah!" he flushed. He returned his gaze back to Izuku. "You never met before, right? Let me introduce you!"

He whirled around and grabbed Izuku's wrist in the process. From Izuku's standpoint, the red-haired man acted like a dog, based on the way he dragged him to the mysterious man as if he was a stick that needed to be returned to the thrower.

"Denki," Kirishima said with a lighthearted lilt. Sparkles and hearts emitted from his aura. "This is Midoriya Izuku," he introduced him with jazzy hands. "You know," he said and waggled his brows, "Katsuki's fiancé."

There were better ways to be introduced. Rather informal than formal, Izuku guessed. He shyly waved, feeling a tad awkward to be under someone's scrutiny.

"Kaminari Denki," the other man introduced himself and extended his hand. "It's nice to finally meet the man who took blasty boy's heart."

He then rested his head on Kirishima's shoulder, and as if they rehearsed this before, both men simultaneously made a choked sob.

"I can't believe it," Kaminari dramatically shaded his eyes. "He grew up so fast."

"I know, babe," Kirishima patted his head to comfort him, "It was almost like yesterday when he refused any prostitute who came near his tent."

"And now look at him," Kaminari wiped away an invisible tear, "He's already on his way to matrimony."

Izuku nervously shuffled his feet as their attention suddenly reverted to him. He needed to change the subject. Fast.

"So…" he tried. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"Actually," Kirishima wrapped an arm around the blond's neck, "We arrived here last night."

"Yeah," Kaminari said and reciprocated Kirishima's touch with a hand on his waist. "We wanted to give Bakugou a surprise visit and asked him if he could be our best man." Kirishima gave him a cheeky smile. "He said yes of course."

Izuku perked up at the news. "You're getting married, too?"

Katsuki never mentioned Kirishima having a significant other, nor did he mention that he was now a future groom.

"Yup!" Kirishima brightened at the mention. "It's hard to plan a wedding when you're fighting in a war."

Kaminari nodded in agreement.

"When's the wedding?" Izuku asked, genuinely curious.

Kaminari waved off his nonexistent fears.

"Don't worry about overlapping dates, Your Highness," Kaminari reassured him. "We booked our wedding date a couple months after yours," he winked. "After all, we can't steal your thunder now, can we?"

Izuku felt a stab of guilt when he looked at the glowing, expecting couple. Here he is, indirectly delaying the marriage of two people who were actually in love.

"You didn't have to do that…" he mumbled. "I bet Kacchan and I wouldn't have minded if you guys had your wedding first."

"We could have…" Kirishima said softly and gently took his fiancé's hands. He soothingly kneaded his thumbs into the muscles.

Kaminari gazed back into his lover's eyes, to convey and remind him that he was alive and breathing and well. He finished his sentence, "… But then I got injured."

He pulled back one hand to pull down the collar of his shirt, revealing a gruesome-looking raised scar that started near his right collarbone and continued downward until his shirt hid the rest. Upon closer inspection, the scar looked old. It differed from the litter of scars Izuku wore around his arms and back. It made his scars look like child's play, but Kaminari's scar was no joke. This was not simply a matter of getting nicked in various parts of the body. This wound must have been life-threatening, Izuku surmised.

"The gash was almost two inches deep," Kaminari explained and traced its fleshy distortion.

It was disorienting to see this man describe his close call with death with such nonchalance.

"Someone had a sharp quirk and almost sliced me in half," he continued. "If he went deeper and reached my descending aorta, man," he shook his head at the mere thought, "It would have been disastrous."

He smiled. "Eijirou saved me, but it was the worst month of my life."

Then he wore a glazed look, remembering the bursts of pain, the bouts of confusion, and worst of all, the terrified cries of his lover. He was barely conscious as the doctors stitched him back together, but he knew he never wanted Kirishima to go through that ordeal again.

"You thought you weren't going to make it," Izuku answered in a low voice.

Kaminari nodded. "Yeah, I thought I wasn't going to make it."

Izuku stepped forward with respect and compassion for this brave man. "But now you're alive. And that's amazing."

Kaminari nodded once more. "Yeah, I'm alive," he laughed. "That is amazing, isn't it?"

"How old is the scar?" Izuku asked as Kaminari proceeded to adjust his shirt to hide his battle wounds.

Once he processed Izuku's question, he pursed his lips and tried to remember the exact date. "I think it was about eight months," he said.

Then he looked at Kirishima. "Was it eight months?"

Kirishima raised his head to the ceiling and mentally sorted through the inner workings of his mind to confirm it.

He shrugged. "That sounds about right."

"Eight months, huh…" Izuku said under his breath.

Coincidentally, eight months ago he received a mysterious invitation from one Bakugou Katsuki to have a private meeting with him at one of the neutral zones. It was in that same month where they decided to set their plan into motion, the month where they sealed their fate.

"Enough about us," Kirishima said with a wave of his hand. "Let's talk about you," he said and took in a more concerned expression.

How about we not, Izuku groaned to himself.

"I saw the paper this morning. Is everything alright?"

Honestly, Kirishima was too good to be true. He doesn't know what Katsuki did to deserve such a wonderful friend. When Izuku first encountered him, already scared out of his wits to meet Katsuki's mother for the first time, the man welcomed him with open arms and glistening eyes. His faith in their love was impenetrable. It was obvious since he was one of the first people who advocated their relationship to the masses. He was hope and honesty packaged into one man, a better role model Izuku and Katsuki could ever hope to be. Kaminari was truly lucky to have him as a future husband.

To cast away his fears and to quell his doubts, Izuku feigned indifference and pretended to yawn.

"The paparazzi always liked to blow things out of proportion," he said. "It's only a lover's spat."

He almost choked on his spit as Kirishima pounded his back with an uproarious laugh.

The red-haired man shook his head in disbelief. "Wow, how desperate can they get?"

"Well, that's good," Kaminari chimed in. "We were worried about you guys, but if it was just a lover's spat, then you just gotta distract the reporters and gush about your favorite qualities about Bakugou."

"Yeah, if I could think of one," Izuku laughed darkly to himself.

The conversation went to a screeching halt.

"Huh?" the two asked simultaneously.

Crap. He couldn't believe he allowed that to slip out. He had to make it or break it.

"Well, of course," he sweated, "There's so many qualities to choose from, you know?"

"Yeah, that's relatable," Kirishima said with a crooked grin and slyly took Kaminari's hand. "After all, you can't help but love everything about that person despite their flaws."

Then the two lovers stared at each other with soft looks and longing eyes, trapped in their own bubble. It was a place where Izuku couldn't intervene, lest he dared pop it. Oddly enough, he did not feel envious, nor did he yearn for such pleasantries. However, a sight like this filled him with hope that true love was within reach rather than staying as a fairy tale's dream. Perhaps the people of this country can also heal from the grief and suffering they endured, just like them. This is what he chose to believe as he watched Kaminari and Kirishima press their foreheads together from afar.

A scream ruined the scene. One does not have to question to figure out who it was.

"THERE YOU ARE!"

Izuku might be exaggerating, but Katsuki's screams may or may not have shook the paintings on the walls. Seriously, it was unnecessary to scream from the top of his lungs. His beautiful but terrifying husband-to-be stomped toward his direction with ire and murder in his eyes. Izuku turned to the source of his troubles with an unamused face.

"Oh, it's you," he said dejectedly.

Katsuki was not taking any shit today; he already had to face the upcoming shitstorm this afternoon. He roughly snatched his wrist with a firm grip and dragged him down the hall despite his protests.

"I explicitly told you," he said with clenched teeth. "I _explicitly_ told you to come to my room after you were done changing!"

Izuku dug his heels into the floor to resist his pull, but Katsuki's strength was quite formidable. His nails marked his skin, leaving crescent-shaped welts.

"I waited for thirty minutes."

Izuku opened his mouth to defend himself, but Katsuki's voice overlapped his.

He spoke louder, "THIRTY DAMN MINUTES."

The lovebirds at the back must have had snapped out of their reverie because they were at Katsuki's side in seconds. Kaminari, brave but foolish, hung onto his abdomen.

"It was our fault," he explained hurriedly and later grunted when Katsuki attempted to jerk him away.

"Yeah!" said Kirishima as he wrapped around Katsuki's bicep to slow him down. "We were distracting him when he was on his way to your room."

He, too, made a whine as Katsuki elbowed his rib.

"Please forgive him," they cried and looked as if they were on the brink of tears.

Katsuki had to put his foot down. He literally had to put his foot down, or he would risk tripping thanks to the combined mass layered on top of him.

"Get off me!" He screeched as he wrenched his body away from his suffocating friends.

Each day he questioned himself why he acquainted himself with these nut jobs. Since Katsuki escaped from their clutches, there was no stable pillar for the boys to latch onto. Therefore, they flopped to the ground, taking Izuku with them.

However, his time at the ground was short-lived. His collar was suddenly tugged from above, and once he was straightened out, an arm immediately corded itself around his shoulder as if it belonged there. He felt Katsuki's breath near his ear.

"Leave us alone, Shitty Hair," Katsuki growled and made a possessive display of nosing around Izuku's neck.

Undeterred by the skinship, Izuku pretended to enjoy the nuzzle and smiled. It was awkward, but hey, it was a smile.

"I want to spend some time with my fiancé," Katsuki said. "Alone," he added with a warning voice, a voice that basically ordered them to leave.

"Alright, alright," Kaminari rolled his eyes and hauled Kirishima up. "I get it. We'll leave you to your devices," he said with a flourishing bow and a waggle of his brows.

Ignoring him, Izuku and Katsuki went on their merry way, but not without Izuku bidding them a proper farewell. Before Katsuki pushed him into his room, he saw them return his smile over his shoulder. Then Katsuki closed the door and locked it.

Unlike the nobles who spent frivolously for their extravagant and furnished spaces, Katsuki's room was bare and minimalistic. His room was every professional interior decorator's nightmare. The exceptions were the refined full-length dressing mirror to their right and his bed. The bedding looked luxurious. Izuku would not be surprised if it felt like sleeping on clouds, considering its thread count.

"Take a seat in front of the mirror," Katsuki instructed him as he disappeared to the left room connected to the main one.

Light filtered in through the blinds, casting the room in an ethereal glow. Despite the lack of telltale signs that Katsuki inhabited here, this room was Izuku's favorite.

"It's still the same as the last time I came here," he whispered in awe.

Perhaps it was the beige-colored walls or the cleanliness of the area, but this room reminded Izuku of home. The first time he stepped here, he knew he wanted to steal it and make it his own. However, that was unacceptable to Katsuki, which is why they had to resolve the issue through their fists and brawled for ownership of the room privately at night. Fortunately, the servants had wild imaginations and had mistaken their nightly fights for sexual activities.

Izuku sat down and stared back at his handsome but worn and weary reflection.

"Wow," he whispered and touched his cheeks. There was a hint of sadness as he voiced out his thoughts. "I've grown…"

Earlier he saw his reflection, but that was to check for wrinkles and other flaws in his look. Now that he had a spare moment, he noticed that most of his boyish features were almost gone. They were hardened by the cruelties of war and many sleepless nights. He was no longer the boy who sped into the battlefield to retrieve as many injured as possible, but the man who would face his wedding day in no less than a month.

"Okay, so here's the plan," Katsuki said and came with a makeup kit and brushes at his side.

He laid the materials on a nearby table top and took out an eyeshadow palette.

"As we both know, those reporters won't give us the time of day once we get to the ceremony," he said while adjusting Izuku's collar until his entire neck was visible.

Izuku nodded with his fingers on his chin. "Yeah… The opening gates are going to be flooded with news-hungry hyenas."

"Therefore," Katsuki explained as the pad of his thumbs traced the side of his neck, "We are going to shut up most of their questions with hickeys."

Goosebumps popped out from his flesh. Izuku did not miss a beat.

"What."

"They're fake hickeys," Katsuki deadpanned and removed his fingers. "When people see it, they'll assume that we just had makeup sex."

Izuku pressed his hand against his chest. "Thank God," he let out a sigh of relief. "I thought you meant we had to give each other real ones."

Katsuki made a disgusted face, as if he just pictured his naked grandmother in his mind. "Don't be fucking gross," he said. That sentence by itself felt like a violation of something. "As if I'm letting your spit get on my neck."

Izuku mirrored his expression. He does not want anybody to nip his neck either. Yet, Izuku was impressed. Katsuki's idea was genius. It was practically foolproof unless some random person dumped a bucket of water on their heads. The bruises and marks that marred their throats would shut up any question about the cancellation of their marriage. There was a reason why Katsuki was one of the best generals of his kingdom. This idea solidified his reputation.

"Just flash a few bruises and provide them some lip service," he explained. "They'll eat that right out of our hands."

"Yeah, that's a great plan!" Izuku complimented him.

Katsuki then went straight to work and tuned out Izuku's words. Though he could do this with his eyes closed, he needed to make this fake hickey as realistic as possible. Izuku was not well-versed in the art of makeup, so he was slightly overwhelmed by the various shades and colors Katsuki brought with him. He first applied a skin-colored cream, and most likely its sole purpose was to act as the base. He kept dabbing more and more colors in sequence, blending the colors to ensure that they were not too bold or too light.

"So…" Izuku was going for light conversation. "Do you do this often?"

"No," he snapped and accidentally pressed the brush a bit too hard. Crap, that was the blue eyeshadow.

He cursed and glared at Izuku, as if he was the one who forced him to do that. However, he managed to rectify his mistake by smoothing out the hues.

"I don't know which rock you've been hiding under," he said while adding some purple eyeshadow to create the outer rim, "But I was busy leading an army than to make a living out of making fake hickeys."

"Oh…" Izuku wilted.

"However, makeup is useful for disguises."

"Oh," Izuku said in acknowledgement. "That makes sense."

Lastly, Katsuki used some blue eyeshadow, copying the same movements he did for the purple eyeshadow with this color. He repeated the process about five more times until he was satisfied with the result. With a flick of the wrist and a few finishing touches, he was done, and voila, Izuku bore several hickeys near the nape of his neck to the top of his collarbone.

Izuku stepped closer to the mirror and stared at the supposed love bites on his neck with admiration.

"They look so realistic," he said, enamored with the perfect mix of shades and colors. "How can you make them look so accurate? You never told me you had a lover."

"Don't need one," Katsuki replied boorishly. "Shitty Hair and Dunce Face are my reference points," he confessed and pushed Izuku out of the way, so he could apply some hickeys on himself.

It took a while for Izuku to process what he said until he realized who those people were. He stammered, taken aback by Katsuki's casual admission.

"I-I didn't need to know that."

"They're getting married. It's to be expected."

Izuku made a scrunched face. "Still…"

Katsuki grunted, obviously not caring if the information he provided was appropriate or inappropriate. At least he didn't recount every sexcapade they had. His virgin eyes can never be recovered after that.

Catching the difference in his scowl as he mentioned his friends, Izuku gave him a slight crooked grin. "You really care for them, don't you?" he asked him.

Katsuki changed his scowl and chose to look even grumpier. Even so, his lack of a response said enough.

Truthfully, he still struggled to understand this pointless war. He studied a couple of the main skirmishes, but overall, he followed his queen's orders and annihilated whoever stood in their way. However, he understood loyalty, and though Kirishima and Kaminari may be the biggest idiots he ever met, they stuck with him through thick and thin. Katsuki personally valued that, and they understood that, which is why he had to repay them in full. After all, he refused to steal away their happiness because of this stupid cause. He would rather marry an idiot than to lose two idiots.

And perhaps, that made him an idiot as well.

"Done," he announced with a puff in his chest.

His accomplishments knew no bounds.

Izuku followed-up by clapping in amazement and helping him organize his set. He exceeded Katsuki's expectations when he placed them in the correct order he laid them out. After they hid the evidence, the stood in front of the mirror the assess their look. In the eyes of the public, they were their respective kingdom's sweethearts, but to themselves, they only saw a mismatched mess.

Izuku held out his arm, asking for permission to hook them. It was time to raise the curtains and to act out their roles. It was showtime.

"Ready?"

Katsuki stared at that lone arm, the same arm he tolerated for the past eight months.

"Ready," he said, and the two left the room. Together.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words. I always reread your words of encouragement every time I write a new chapter to keep me motivated. I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. Fun fact: Shimamura Yuu was the voice actress for the reporter in the anime before the USJ attack.**

Shimamura Yuu flattened out her pencil skirt and checked her hair in front of the rearview mirror of her van. A shoulder bumped against her.

"Hey!" she yelled back. "Watch where you're going!"

However, whoever made contact with her was lost in the crowd. Shimamura clicked her tongue.

The ceremony was infested with reporters, dying to be chosen as one of the lucky few to ask Prince Izuku their questions since he was one of the main speakers this afternoon. She would be a liar if she said that her inquisitive nature was not piqued, but Shimamura was above chasing after the drama.

"I knew it was all an act," she heard from a distance. "There's no way Prince Katsuki could be happy with such a plain-looking tramp."

Shimamura turned around to find the source of that voice, but to her dismay, she could not.

Unlike her peers and colleagues, she was more interested in other matters. Besides, in a sense, she sympathized with Prince Katsuki and Prince Izuku since she cannot imagine facing all this scrutiny. Though she supposed they were accustomed to such attention and backlash ever since they kept their affair under wraps.

However, she was slightly offended that such an asinine person would dare call Prince Izuku a tramp. Yes, in their culture, polygamy was acceptable, but that part of their society does not wholly define Prince Izuku as an individual. How dare they smear mud on Prince Izuku's name over that, she seethed. She hoped that if she crossed paths with the fool who insulted her kingdom's prince again, she would weaponize her high heels and strike some sense into that person.

A random person shouted over the noise of the crowd. "There they are!"

The brunette turned her head to the left along with several other reporters. The ones who were prepared for Prince Izuku's arrival stuffed their belongings into their bags and immediately herded over to the direction of the stage to snatch a front row seat.

"Crap," said Shimamura. She banged the driver's door with her fist, waking up her colleague from his nap. "They're here!" she exclaimed to her crew. "Hurry up!"

She was at a disadvantage since her footwear was not desirable, but she willed her high heels to the area where the main interviews and speeches would be held. An unmistakable sleek, black limousine parked nearby, and fans crowded around it, inching to look past the tinted windows for a peek of their beloved princes. However, their efforts were thwarted as bodyguards surrounded the vicinity of the car and pushed the masses away.

The noise was deafening, as fans and reporters alike screamed out their support and questions until they mixed together into this ungodly sound. Shimamura held her position and watched this cacophony with amusement.

"It never gets old," she laughed as she watched hordes of people straining to touch the door handles.

A part of her was concerned that somebody could get trampled on, but that thought was swatted away as the main attraction stepped out of the limousine. Indeed, this scene never gets old, but the reaction from the audience was entirely new.

A hush blanketed the raving crowd as Prince Katsuki stood out first, donning a standard black suit with the top buttons unbuttoned and an absent tie. His sloppy appearance was not the cause of the sudden shift in the atmosphere; rather, the blues, pinks, and purples painting his neck were the center of attention. One would not raise their eyebrows over his unkempt appearance, but his signature look took a different meaning as he made his way to the stage. He continued to look cool and collected despite looking ravished and salacious.

"Oh my god," somebody squeaked as Prince Izuku chased after his husband-to-be.

Unlike the blotches of love bites marking Katsuki's neck, Izuku's were clusters of smaller hickeys dotting his jawline and throat. Katsuki sauntered past many reporters, especially the ones he recognized who were dubious about their marriage. He flashed them a smug, toothy grin while looking very, very unapologetic, as if daring them to question the validity of his love life. He even lifted his chin to show off, nonverbally boasting about how much of a good time he had earlier.

Murmurs erupted from the crowd. Theories were thrown left and right.

"Kacchan," Izuku tugged on Katsuki's sleeve. "You're overdoing it," he told him, his soft voice being drowned out by the noise.

"Let them talk," Katsuki grumbled under his breath. "It'll make those conspiracy theorists look stupid now."

Then he snuck his arm around Izuku's waist and pulled him in close. "Follow my lead," he commanded, and as always, Izuku took this in stride.

They walked side-by-side, conjoined together as one unified pair, demonstrating their solidarity to their people. Decades later people will continue to discuss about their immeasurable love, a love so great that it stopped a war, a love so vast that it brought two kingdoms together. However, that was the future. Right now, Izuku focused on the present.

Katsuki Bakugou was as radiant as ever, oozing off autonomy and self-confidence, for he was a man who does not stop for the world. The world stops for him. His surety was so infectious that Izuku was affected by it and was subsequently surprised by his boldness as he shamelessly sidled closer to Katsuki's muscled arms. A couple of fans may have fainted by the sight.

For a crazed moment, Izuku indulged in this fantasy, in this world where they were lovers instead of incompatible men who hated each other's guts. It was a shame that the war tore their kingdoms apart. He honestly believed that if the cards were right and circumstances were different, they could have been good friends, even best friends if Izuku was delusional enough.

Thankfully, Katsuki's voice knocked some sense back into him.

"You're up," he said and nudged his arm.

To bolster his claim, hundreds of onlookers stared back at Izuku's frozen frame. Mortified by his unprofessional behavior, Izuku quickly got up from his seat. Even though his only role here was to be the opener of the ceremony, that was no excuse for him to lack the proper decorum of a prince. When he reached the podium, he adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat, which was a rookie mistake as a screeching sound emitted from the speakers.

Katsuki palmed his face, gaining secondhand embarrassment from watching this train wreck.

"What kind of idiot forgets audio feedback?" he groaned.

Despite his fumble in the beginning, Izuku did not devolve into a massive, bumbling fool who continued to stumble over his words. After all, this was a man who had put himself in danger countless times to save the lives of many, who swiftly carried numerous injured to the medical tents with hardly a scratch. A mere blip of his performance was not going to make him crash and burn. Compared to the battles he endured, this speech was nothing.

He closed his eyes for three counts. He then opened his eyes and recollected his composure.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen," he introduced with a clear, strong voice. "We are gathered here today to commemorate the opening of the Mustafu General Hospital. We have already come a long way, but there are still miles and miles ahead of us."

His eyes surveyed the guests he was honoring today.

"We survived a lot to get here. As many of you have known, this hospital was almost a pipe dream for me. We would not be here today without the support of-"

Katsuki dozed off and tuned out Izuku's words with good reason. He listened to this same exact speech for at least fifty times ever since Izuku decided that practice makes perfect. Sue him, but he does not wish to hear about Izuku's enthusiasm for the future of the medical field and rebuilding broken bonds and all that mushy crap for the fifty-first time.

He was not entirely indifferent to the creation of the hospital. As the war escalated, many safe zones, hospitals included, were compromised. The nerd was brave enough to compile a list of conditions in exchange for his hand in marriage, and at the top of this priority list was to rebuild the schools and hospitals as soon as possible.

"... And just like our forefathers before us," Izuku closed with a pumped fist raising in the air, "Plus Ultra!"

His speech must have been pretty damn good. A reliable indicator were the claps and cheers coming from the multiple people standing from their chairs. One woman was even bawling her eyes out while dabbing them with a spare handkerchief.

Katsuki shifted in his seat. Once the uproar settled down, the audience were directed to sit down. Katsuki eyed Izuku, and he responded with a slight nod. They were prepared for the influx of questions to come, and they should, for the journalists did not pull any punches.

One man stood amongst the others, and Katsuki already hated him at first sight. His smile was grimy; his appearance was sleazy. People often told him to not judge a book by its cover, but he was intuitive enough to make a call. This guy looked like a douche, the type of man who thrived off of stories that revealed homewreckers and cheating scandals.

"Excuse me, but I noticed that your ring finger is missing an engagement ring," he pointed out. "Care to elaborate?"

Izuku was not fazed. Not at all. He wore a tender smile and thumbed his ring finger with care and reverence, using this distraction to conjure up an acceptable answer.

"You see, sir," he directed to the journalist. "Kacchan does not follow our custom of wearing engagement rings."

Right after he said that, sounds of dissent exploded from various people. Izuku was momentarily blinded by the camera flashes, no doubt scorning his decision to not wear his ring, but he proceeded to explain.

"Therefore," he said and parted his collar to reach for a cord, unabashedly showing off the marks in his neck. That was a nice touch, Katsuki thought as Izuku revealed the true location of his ring.

"Kacchan and I will wear our rings around our necks," he said. "To honor my traditions, we will keep our rings, but to honor his traditions, we will wear tattooed rings before the wedding."

The angry protests earlier slowly died down. Izuku finished his response with a courteous smile, a smile that effectively melted hearts and ensured people that all will be fine.

"After all," he added, "What is a better way to celebrate our union than to combine both traditions together?"

From there, reporters fired off their questions without reprieve, and bless his soul, Izuku never faltered, never tripped over each reply.

"What is one quality you dislike about Prince Katsuki?" one would blatantly ask. Their malicious intent did not go unnoticed.

Yet, Izuku took these flagrant attacks without a flinch. He beamed as if the mention of his future husband thrilled him.

"That's a hard question," he said and took a long pause. He bobbed his head in thought, as if he had trouble thinking of a negative quality. "I will admit that there are times when his temper can get ahold of him," he started.

Some from the audience nodded. Prince Katsuki was notorious for his outbursts and rampages.

However, Izuku did not say this with ill will. "Though it can be excessive, he understands the times when he's at fault."

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Also, as you can see, he has a unique way of apologizing in his own terms," he said and let out a short chuckle as if he recalled a certain memory even though there was no such thing. "He's over excessive in that area as well."

He looked over his shoulder and fondly glanced back at Katsuki with lidded, kind eyes. Izuku must have taken his scathing words from yesterday to heart and practiced in front of a mirror because his acting, Katsuki had to begrudgingly admit, was seamless. If he had to put a finger on it, his look reminded him of the way Kaminari would look at Kirishima while they worked out at the gym.

Izuku's stare reminded him of that rawness, the innate hunger in his eyes, and it felt like needles prickling his skin. Katsuki wondered how on earth Kirishima could bear having this much focused attention from a single person, to become the center of their world. Luckily, these sensations left once Izuku returned his attention to the crowd. He fed the masses more fodder by acting embarrassed afterwards as if he was caught in the act of ogling him.

"Ah," he rubbed the back of his neck with a shy smile. "Sorry about that. Where was I?"

The crowd laughed at his cute reaction. They were putty in his hands. Izuku managed to defuse the tense mood without lifting a finger. He succeeded in his goal.

Call Katsuki petty, but he does not like being outperformed.

He got up from his seat and walked towards the podium with swag. Though Izuku perfectly handled the situation now, the whole setup grinded Katsuki. The persistence of these assholes bothered him, and a prevailing thought came across him. If they won't let up after eight months, they probably won't let up after another eight months. They've been breathing down their necks since day one, hoping for the pin to drop, and Katsuki has had enough. He had reached his breaking point.

Perhaps they were not clear enough to their narrow-minded eyes. Perhaps they were too vanilla in their public displays of affection. Today is the day he would break that chain. Today is the day the bar was set a bit higher.

He gave each and every snobby face the stink eye as he shoved himself into Izuku's space. The prince gave him a cautionary glance, but Katsuki didn't care. This was for their own good.

He leaned into the microphone with authority.

"Listen up," his voice reverberated throughout the field. "You guys can go ahead and try to act innocent with the excuse that it's for journalism, but I see through your bullshit."

"Kacchan…" Izuku looked worriedly at the questioning looks of the audience. He tried to wring Katsuki away from the podium, but he was having none of that.

Typically, when one faced the elephant in the room, they would work around it, avoid it at all costs, but Bakugou Katsuki was not that type of man. He yanked the elephant by its trunk and threw it out into the open for the world to see. He refused to cut corners. It was bad enough he accommodated Izuku into his life. He refused to bend any further than that.

"I'm not blind," he said haughtily, "You guys think you're so smart that Deku would slip up on something if you kept giving him tricky questions."

Again, Izuku attempted to pull Katsuki away from hogging the microphone, but the blond ceased his efforts and grabbed his tie.

"Well, you failed," he announced and wrapped his hand around the fabric until Izuku's face was centimeters away from his. "Suck it up," he said smugly, "We're deeply in love, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Kacchan…" Izuku said once again, albeit a bit more panicked with an idea of what's to come.

Sure, he can overpower him and stop his advances, but that would bring out the wrong message and ruin Katsuki's improvised speech.

"To all you fuckers trying to sabotage our relationship," Katsuki flipped them the bird as he closed in onto Deku's face. "Fuck you," he said and dipped his head until they locked lips.

Izuku told himself he was prepared, waited for that small part of him to die as their mouths meshed together, but he was not prepared for that tongue. He made a surprised sound as Katsuki parted his mouth and accidentally activated his quirk, stomping Katsuki's foot in the process.

He may or may not have heard a crack.

Katsuki may or may not have a broken toe.

Fortunately, the overall audience were ignorant of Katsuki's sudden thirst for blood and his desperate attempts to choke Izuku in retaliation by sticking down his tongue into his throat. While Izuku was frantically clawing for air as Katsuki sucked on his tongue and held him hostage, they were receiving catcalls and lewd remarks from the crowd.

Several bigshots and bigwigs were hoping to capture the makings of a failed engagement, but they instead settled with this, their prized princes battling it out for dominance in the bed. The grunts and moans left much to the imagination even though it was really just Izuku struggling to get his mouth off of Katsuki.

Izuku used the last ounce of his strength to topple Katsuki and pin his back to the edge of the podium. He leaned close to his face, so that the angles showed them that they were continuing their heavy make out session.

"What was that?!" Izuku asked in a high-pitched voice. "That was not lip service!"

"It is now!" Katsuki grunted as he struggled to push Izuku away. "Fucking Deku," he hissed as he accidentally applied pressure on his foot. "My toe is probably broken!"

It was also most likely swelling at this point.

"Sorry!" Izuku whispered back, sincere in his apology.

Before Katsuki could slam Izuku back to the podium and give him a piece of his own medicine, the two were separated by some guards for indecent exposure. It wasn't even that scandalous, Katsuki thought, but he figured they were too conservative to handle a bit of fake petting. He tried not to wince at the piercing, sharp pain. Crap, this injury would be hard to explain.

Izuku fumbled over his words, his mind reeling as it tried to find a good explanation for Katsuki's eventual limp. He wasn't limping beforehand, so they can't even use the sex card.

Izuku stared at Katsuki.

Katsuki stared at Izuku.

Izuku pursed his lips. He had to be mentally prepared for the repercussions of what he was about to do next. He made eye contact with Katsuki and mouthed an apology, and before Katsuki could silently communicate his confusion, Izuku dashed forward and scooped him in his arms.

Legs tucked under one arm and head cradled by the other, Izuku carried Katsuki away and ended his questioning session right there. Many cheered and hooted their support as Izuku and Katsuki left, giving them the assumption they were about to finish what they started.

They were not wrong, but it was not the image they had in mind.

* * *

Izuku paced around their room back at the castle while Katsuki continued to gargle mouthwash, which he had been doing for the past five minutes. They managed to explain how Katsuki stubbed his toe due to their sexual endeavors at the hospital, so he was prescribed rest and a cast.

"My germs aren't that infectious," Izuku sighed as he stood by the entrance to the bathroom. "You're the one who started it anyway."

He yelped as Katsuki squirted some mouthwash in his direction. He dodged it, but the carpet got caught in the crossfire. He wrinkled his nose and made a note to give the servants gift baskets.

"Shut up," Katsuki said tiredly after he spat out the nth wash. A person meters away could still smell his minty freshness.

He pushed the mouthwash into Izuku's chest. "Want some?"

The gesture was unexpected, so Izuku wondered if it was poisoned or not. He held the offered cup and mouthwash with apprehension, but once he remembered the slick feel of Katsuki's tongue thrusting itself into his mouth, a bad aftertaste invaded his palette.

"Thanks," he mumbled and watched Katsuki collapse onto the bed. They had a long day.

He took the mouthwash and proceeded to remove any traces of Katsuki's germs in his mouth until it burned and tingled from the aftereffects.


	4. Chapter 4

"Don't worry, Kacchan, I know how to separate the whites."

"Yeah, right, "Katsuki harrumphed. "Should I remind you of the last time I trusted you to separate the egg whites from the yolk?"

Izuku failed. He was so ecstatic over his short-lived success that he dropped the entire egg into the mixture. In case one was wondering, they were making fake semen.

Izuku clapped his hands together with a pitiful face. "I promise I won't mess up again. Please?"

"Hell no," Katsuki said bluntly while mixing the corn starch and water. "I'm not letting you waste a perfectly good egg."

"Kacchan," Izuku jutted out his bottom lip, "Why so little faith?"

"I don't know," Katsuki deadpanned as diligently whisked the ingredients together. "Maybe it's the fact that you forgot to order the methylcellulose or the other off-brand we often buy, and because of your dumb mistake, we have to make cum by scratch."

He is pissed. Katsuki cannot believe he is having this conversation. He cannot believe he is making homemade semen.

"In my defense," Izuku piped up, "It has been a while since we've done this."

What he meant was their scheduled bimonthly sexy times. Every two weeks Katsuki and Midoriya would make obnoxious sex noises from their room to attract the attention of gossiping maids to not rouse suspicion about their celibacy. Afterwards, they would wake up early in the morning to set up the crime scene, ripping their clothes apart as if they were animals and smearing the fake cum into their sheets as evidence of their nightlong activities.

It was unfortunate Katsuki had a broken toe, but it was a godsend sent from the heavens. With Katsuki's injuries in mind, they were recommended to abstain from intercourse per doctor's orders. It was the best three weeks of their lives. No more obligated nights of planning out the scripts of their dirty talk. No more nights of scraping their throats raw from the uncomfortable moaning and screaming. Indeed, these three weeks were bliss. Another plus was the postponement of their wedding since Katsuki refused to walk down the alter with a conspicuous limp.

"Hey Deku," Katsuki called out his name, "Stop daydreaming and get the ice bath ready."

"Yeah, yeah," Izuku said dismissively and fetched the ice bath.

Katsuki was an unforgiving soul ever since the incident and slaved Izuku off to do his bidding. They were hassles, but Izuku took partial blame for Katsuki's toe. He felt a tinge of guilt when it was obvious how much Katsuki was itching to run amuck in his natural habitat than warming his seat.

Ice bath in tow, Izuku carefully placed it by Katsuki's side and observed his work from the sidelines, easily mesmerized by his movements. Katsuki mixed the remaining ingredients into the thick makeshift substance with ease. It was captivating. Izuku watched with keen fascination and compared his partner to a professional patissier tempering his chocolate until it held its silky, glossy sheen. Except that Katsuki wasn't tempering chocolate. He was mixing a uniform batch of fake cum.

"There," he said and glared at the offending result. "Make sure to not mess up this time Deku."

Automatically Izuku took the pan and laid it on the ice bath. As he waited for the mixture to cool down, he began to arrange the room along with Katsuki.

"What's next on our to-do list?" Katsuki asked while squeezing out the bottle of lube into the bedsheets.

"We have to visit the tattoo artist to decide on the design for our rings," Izuku replied and unwrapped some condoms.

"Crap, I forgot about that," Katsuki groaned. "Can we postpone the appointment?"

"We can't. The wedding is in three weeks," Izuku reminded him. "We were recommended to finish our tattoos at least a week before the wedding. We're already in hot water for not having a design ready yet."

"Great," Katsuki grumbled.

When the fake semen was at room temperature, Katsuki took a handful and slathered it on the blankets and sheets. Izuku also crawled over to grab some to stain the room with their so-called fluids.

"Kaminari-kun and Kirishima-kun had already picked their rings," Izuku pointed out. "They're scheduled to be inked this upcoming weekend."

Katsuki wiped his hands with a warm towel and surveyed the room for anything that was lacking in the risqué department.

"That's because they're in love," he said, "Also they chose the most boring rings in existence."

"I think it's romantic," Izuku gave him his input. "I don't see what's wrong with having a heart as their ring tattoos.

Katsuki shook his head in disbelief. The nerd doesn't understand. He was probably too caught up in their glee when they announced their ring designs to the whole world. This happened last week, when Kaminari and Kirishima barged into their room with stars in their eyes and illuminated smiles on their faces.

It was annoying as hell. Izuku and Katsuki had the visceral response to brace themselves for any incoming tricks because over the past couple weeks, they were often found as the victims of their pranks. The pranks ranged from trashing their workspaces with newspaper meticulously wrapped around most of their materials or waking up to an army of filled glass cups on the ground. Katsuki was practically a sitting duck thanks to his injury, so he was often vulnerable to their tomfoolery.

However, that would change the next time he sees them. He had already marked them for death. He would make them pay and regret for laying a hand on him. They stepped over a very fine line once they brought out the glitter and glue. That particular prank was a nightmare, and he wouldn't be surprised if he sparkles were still stuck to his ass.

That was beside the point. The point was the Kirishima and Kaminari were embarrassing themselves for acting all proud and mighty over a stinking heart. He expected the two idiots to go for a flashy, more intricate design, but no, it was the most basic and simple heart they could find. Worse, their inked hearts would be incomplete without interlacing their fingers together. They said it was a symbol of their union, their connection, of the trials and tribulations they faced together. Katsuki almost barfed at sappiness and sweetness of it all.

"You're being too critical, Kacchan," Izuku said as he began packing away the ingredients.

"I'm not," he argued. "It's too plain."

He also hypothesized that Kaminari had a low pain tolerance and was being a baby about it. When he implied that earlier, Kaminari said there was a difference between involuntary and voluntary pain. Whatever.

Overall, many would skip out on the skimpy heart. Couples were rarely satisfied with that.

"But if that's what they want to wear for the rest of their lives," Katsuki said while spreading out his arms, "Be my guest."

"Hmm…" Izuku hummed with a pensive look.

The room was debauched to an acceptable degree. Their work was finished.

"It sounds like a big deal," said Izuku. "What kind of rings do you want then?"

"Why should I care?" Katsuki sneered. "It doesn't matter since we don't like each other."

However, it did.

It did ever since he was a young boy and his small chubby fingers traced over the jagged lines of the dragon coiling around his mother's finger, how it represented his mother's strength and his father's wisdom. He was a silly child back then to have such silly dreams. They felt real enough to grasp until adulthood and society kicked him to the curb and opened his eyes. He used to desire owning the most badass ring with the most badass wife, but the novelty of that prospect could never be on the table. He was marrying Izuku Midoriya, a man he could barely tolerate, and yet he had to share this special, intimate experience with him.

"Kacchan," Izuku called out his name.

He turned around. "What?"

Izuku stood there with his makeup kit and carefully handed it to him.

"Here," he said.

Katsuki took it and stared back at Izuku, who went to his designated spot in front of the mirror. Then he craned his neck.

"You don't have to go overboard like last time," he said and tapped the space underneath his jawline. "One is fine."

"You're not the boss of me," Katsuki said gruffly while rummaging for the brushes and eyeshadows.

"I'm not, but I think it's safer to stick with one than several."

Katsuki made no other sound as he held Izuku's chin and did his work, giving him the impression that he agreed, even though he did not say so vocally. They stayed in companionable silence, with Katsuki putting forth his utmost concentration into this one hickey and Izuku drifting off into his daydreams.

Right at the moment Katsuki was about to apply his own hickey, somebody was rapping on their door, which led their eyes to simultaneously lock onto it like a beacon.

It was unsaid, but in the event of any interruption in their endeavors, Izuku and Katsuki would spring into action. They moved lightning fast, so fast that if one took a photo of that split second, they would have only captured a blur. Katsuki swiped his makeup supplies under the bed with his foot. Izuku activated One for All and shoved his foot against the door before their visitor could peek inside.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Midoriya!"

More knocks followed.

Both Katsuki and Izuku let out a sigh of relief. If the person behind the door was a maid, this interaction would have gone differently.

"Goddamn Shitty Hair," Katsuki complained as he approached the door.

Izuku opened it to let the redhead in.

"This better be important," he said, "I thought it was an emergency or something-"

As Izuku fully opened the door to reveal his friend, Kirishima stood there, stock-still. His eyes were casted downward. His lips were pressed together until they were paper thin. His usual sunny complexion disappeared, and what replaced it was a look of doom, as if he was the harbinger of bad news.

Izuku was about to ask Kirishima if he was fine, but then he spoke.

"She's here," his voice faltered. "Your mother…" he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing along with the motion. "She…" he glanced uneasily to gauge Katsuki's reaction. "She wishes to see you."

Izuku followed Kirishima's lead and nervously looked at his betrothed. As expected, he was not taking the news well. The man himself gripped the door so tightly until his knuckles turned white. With added force, he would have ripped the door handle from its socket. Spots appeared in his vision. His breathing turned erratic. The memories of the last encounter with his mother flooded through his mind.

"Tell her we'll be there," Izuku said hurriedly and rushed Kirishima out before Katsuki thrashed their room to tatters and shreds, which he did right after Izuku stepped out and closed the door behind him.

He winced when he heard the explosions, but he allowed Katsuki three sole minutes to wreck their room. After he was done wreaking havoc, Izuku slowly walked in to assess the damage. The carpet was scorched. Bed frames were snapped. He found the mattress overhauled to the far corner. There were dents in the walls.

Katsuki strung out every curse word imaginable by man, but they were mostly unintelligible. Izuku kept his mouth shut, wondering if there was a chance he could ease the storms raging in his heart, but he knew the answer. All he could really do was stand there and wait until the man calmed down, and Izuku cannot blame him for his explosive reaction because the last time they met, they ended on bad terms.

Izuku remembered the unpleasant memory as if it was yesterday.

On the day he met Kirishima Eijirou, Izuku Midoriya also met Mitsuki Bakugou, the leader of her kingdom and the mother of his future husband. While Kirishima was a sweetheart who wouldn't dare harm a fly, Queen Mitsuki was a person who would have backhanded that son of a bitch and crushed it with her heels. Kirishima gave them his undying support. Queen Mitsuki did not.

Upon Izuku's arrival to the Bakugou stronghold, they were immediately sent to the throne room. The purpose of Izuku's visit in the first place was to ask for the family's blessings, but Katsuki knew better.

"Kirishima," he called out.

The redhead widened his eyes. He would only be called by his name whenever Katsuki meant serious business.

"If things go south," he continued, "Take the nerd and run away."

Kirishima halted so fast, he skidded on his heels.

"What?" he asked, confused. He followed after Katsuki and shook his head. "No, I can't. That's not the manly thing to do."

"It was not a question," Katsuki snapped. His eyes crackled under the fluorescent lights. "It's an order."

"But-"

Kirishima was not built to be a coward, to abandon a friend he had a strong rapport with after so many years. However, his determination to deny this request withered. Katsuki's burning crimson eyes stopped him. The blond grabbed his scarf and pulled him to his face until they were close enough to catch the definition of their blood red irises.

"Run," Katsuki emphasized with a low growl. "You have someone waiting for you," he reminded him.

Kirishima bit his tongue and looked off to the side. He could not argue with that logic.

Katsuki huffed and released his hold. Then he turned back to the entrance to the throne room. Before he pushed against those ornate golden doors, he lastly said, "Don't die for this cause. It's not worth it."

Izuku, who was trailing behind them at an adequate distance, watched this exchange with mild interest. Though he understood that he was clearly missing important gaps to their conversation, he knew that it held more weight than he can imagine. At the time, he was unaware of Kaminari's existence.

Kirishima kept his mouth closed and nodded obediently.

With that, Katsuki entered the room with a bang. Heads turned to his direction as he strode up to the center of his room to butt heads with his mother, his leader, his queen. Following his order, Kirishima held Izuku's shoulder and signaled him to stand back. This was a fight Izuku could not win unless he wanted to admit a humiliating defeat. Knowing Queen Mitsuki, she would have done more damage than lashing words and a slap across the end of the hall. Only Katsuki knew how to deal with her best.

Katsuki hated lying. He hated it with a passion, but he reasoned that there were good lies, necessary lies. He needed this mindset if he ever hoped to lie with a straight face, to fabricate falsities with conviction. Unlike his partner in crime, guilt did not sit in. Instead, he felt an itch, an itch that would only worsen with each layered lie until it became a full-blown rash. It consumed him.

However, he would lie a million lies because this was for his friends, his family, his people. He would do it over and over again.

"Traitor," the queen snarled as she stepped down her throne to meet her son. "You dare have the gall to show your face here."

He understood her pain. In a sense, he betrayed his people, his honor. He fell in love with the enemy, and instead of running with his tail tucked between his legs, he returned to ask for the impossible.

Luckily there was one way he could gain her blessings. He crouched down and put himself in a basic stance. "I don't care what you say to me," he said. "Give us your blessing, and we'll be on our way."

"Blessing? Ha!" As expected, the woman copied his stance and raised her arms to guard her face. "You can fool everyone, but you can't fool me," she said derisively. She eyed his supposed green-haired lover, who stood at the sidelines.

"You don't even love him."

Katsuki refused to be shaken. Although the sting of facing such opposition hurt, there was too much riding on their plan for him to give up. He promised he would see this through the end even if it meant being labeled as a traitor.

Katsuki's father stood from his throne, already sensing of what's to come. Even though he knew the outcome, he had to intervene, to see if he could stop this before his wife and son destroyed themselves.

"Mitsuki," he pleaded, "Please don't do this."

"No Masaru," she cut him off. "This is between me and him."

The council were watching her actions; they were waiting for her to slip. By law, the person next in line was not the firstborn son. The ruler of the kingdom had to choose a successor they found suited for the role, meaning that it could be anybody, ranging from a lowly peasant to one of their kin, and the council would then accept the candidate or not.

Therefore, the queen could kill her son without remorse. After all, it was not difficult to find a substitute for his absence. Even so, he was her son, the boy she raised from birth to adulthood, but this was for her kingdom. Nobody, not even the child she loved so dearly and close to her heart, could stop her. She detached herself from the situation, lest she crumble down and subjected herself to her motherly instincts.

"I issue a challenge," Katsuki ignored his father's words and did the unthinkable. "Your blessing, and by extension, a treaty to end this war, in exchange for my life. Do you accept the terms?"

"No," Masaru whispered with grief painting his features.

"Yes," the queen said, silently apologizing her husband for her irredeemable choices.

Where tradition stands, they were not allowed to use their quirks during combat. They only fought using their bare hands and wits. There would be a victor once the person surrendered or killed by the opponent's hands.

"Think like a man of action," Katsuki began to incite the code and lunged forward.

"Act like a man of thought," Queen Mitsuki finished and followed suit.

The two were vicious in their attacks, aggressive in their strikes. His mother thrusted her fist to his face, but Katsuki dodged and blocked her blow with his forearm. Then he swooped in to swiftly punch her jaw, but she caught onto his feint and ducked. She scooted into his space and landed a good one onto his cheek. After that, they were relentlessly exchanging and returning blows left and right.

Izuku watched their fight from a distance. A sinking, hollow feeling was in his stomach, and occasionally he would look away, unable to bear to watch a mother and her son tear each other apart. Blood spilled onto the floor. Bruises bloomed on their skin. Izuku covered his mouth, his heart breaking as Katsuki pushed himself further to end the fight. However, that became his downfall when he jabbed one on his mother. His body instinctively retracted when he heard her pain and accidentally stepped on a puddle of blood.

His footwork got sloppy at that instinct, and his mother took that to her advantage. Before Katsuki could berate himself for this mistake, he found himself pounded to the ground, head dizzy from the force of his head colliding against the tiles. He made a choked sound as the air left from his body.

Then the queen suddenly overturned him and twisted his arms until they were locked to his back. He struggled, but the world began to look as if it was turning upside down.

"Yield," his mother ordered. "Yield or die."

Katsuki closed his eyes as the sting of defeat washed over him. The searing pain from the fight finally cooled down to an aching soreness, but really, that doesn't matter as he was reaching the doors of death. He could surrender, he thought. He could live and find another way to end this pointless war.

He turned his head and looked in Izuku's direction, who stood there on the brink of tears, shaking like a leaf blown by a gust of wind. To anybody else, they would have interpreted this scene as Katsuki catching the last glimpse of his lover before he was struck down.

However, he was looking at the person behind Izuku's shoulder. Kirishima was biting his lip, which was probably bleeding since his canines were quite sharp. He knitted his brows in agony and watched, most likely to witness his death like the true friend he is before he could take Izuku away and escape.

People in the battlefield often remarked that in the last vestiges of their life, they would see their life flash by in an instant, but that was not what Katsuki saw as he accepted his fate. He saw an image much better than the bloody, war-torn life he lived. He imagined Kirishima and Kaminari living the life, full of elated joy and happiness. He imagined their wedding day, especially the looks of stupid love on their dopey faces. He imagined Mina fighting other bridesmaids for the winning bouquet, and Sero hopelessly flirting with the wedding guests. He imagined himself there, congratulating his friends with a contentment, easily concealed by the scowl he often wore. It was nice, he thought as he stared back at his mother's face, ready to end this fight once and for all. It would have been nice to see all of that.

Izuku was used to watching people die in front of his eyes, and at one point of his life, he feared that he would have become desensitized to the sight. Then Katsuki Bakugou appeared in his life, showing him how far he was willing to perform this charade. He could not believe it, but it was true. Izuku was shaken to the core and watched in horror as the queen was about to twist her son's neck without shedding a tear.

He probably violated at least five laws and offended the entire nation, but before Izuku could stop, before Izuku could comprehend what was going on, he tapped back to his origins and ran.

One for All electrified his senses. The adrenaline pumped into his veins. Before he knew it, he found himself grabbing hold of Queen Mitsuki's arms and stopped her from committing something she would have regretted for the rest of her life.

From the corner of his eye, Katsuki caught the moment Izuku collided into his mother, thereby releasing her hold on him. Then his vision was clouded as Izuku shielded him with his body, cradling his head as tears splattered his face. Izuku tried to sniffle back the tears, but they kept pouring, as if he couldn't contain the emotions spilling from his eyes. They felt like raindrops on his skin, and though Katsuki wouldn't say it, they felt appropriate for the occasion.

"You idiot," he croaked. "Why are you even crying?"

"I couldn't let you die," Izuku sobbed. "You promised," he told him with fear laced in his voice. "You promised we will stick to this until the end."

"Get out of the way!" Queen Mitsuki shrieked once she heaved herself up from her spot. Rage flickered in her eyes. A suffocating, murderous aura emitted from her as she stomped forward.

Izuku tightened his hold, lowered his head, and awaited the consequences of his actions. He would not be surprised if the queen had strike him where he stood. Katsuki also held his breath, waiting for the final verdict as his mother came closer and closer.

"My Queen," an elder spoke up. "You cannot kill Midoriya."

Queen Mitsuki grabbed a fistful of green hair and yanked it until Izuku felt the roots being pulled out from his skull. He screamed, a piercing scream that echoed in the room. Yet, he continued to shield Katsuki's body with his smaller one. He would not let her harm him. He wouldn't.

"This boy," she spat vehemently, "He was prepared to face the price of death once he interrupted us. Why should I spare him?"

Another elder stood from her place and asked, "Are you willing to incur the wrath of Toshinori Yagi?"

The council whispered amongst themselves, fully aware of the legendary knight's influence and his general fondness for the green-haired prince. If word got out of Midoriya's death in their lands, they would pay the price. Indeed, Katsuki had chosen a troublesome man to be his lover.

Queen Mitsuki flared her nostrils. She looked at Izuku with pure resentment. Then her eyes flitted to her son, and for a moment, a brief moment, the façade she held earlier cracked just a bit. She clicked her tongue and freed his head from her clutches.

"Leave," she said before Izuku could analyze her more.

She then turned and wearily made her way back to her husband's side, who wore a solemn gaze throughout the fight.

As if a magic spell was lifted, life returned to the throne room as people talked and discussed over the future between the two kingdoms now that the pair have proven their love. The impending end of the war was close at hand.

Kirishima hustled to Izuku's side and checked out Katsuki's battered form.

"He's fine," Izuku said with a rueful smile.

Snot caked his face. Dried tears itched his eyes. However, they lived despite the odds. They managed to change something, even though it was just for a little bit.

Eventually Katsuki and Izuku received their blessings, and during that time, Izuku felt a short burst of happiness in his chest that they won. However, he also couldn't help but feel a sense of loss. He remembered Queen Mitsuki's fury, the passionate rejection she held for their marriage. He knew that someday he would have to revisit that bad blood, and he was right. After months of radio silence, Queen Mitsuki appeared back into their lives. Thus, he was put back into the fray, and worst of all, he doesn't know what to expect.


	5. Chapter 5

Katsuki stormed out of their room with Izuku hot on his heels. Kirishima was nowhere to be found, most likely giving them privacy, and Izuku was grateful for his quick thinking. Katsuki's seething presence was smoldering. His eyes were dark; his steps were thunderous. He looked ready to reignite the flames of misguided anger and distrust and go for a free-for-all with his mother. After all, if this peace was in any way endangered, Katsuki would dive back into hell to preserve it.

Izuku wished he could connect, could identify with the crashing waves of hurt radiating off his fiancé, but alas, his familial situation was different. His beloved mother accepted his decisions, and though most of the nobles of the court were dubious over his decisions, they cared for his happiness, his willingness to take this volatile man as his husband.

Katsuki's anger was justified, but he cannot spiral out of control just yet. Any misstep, any slip of the tongue during their meeting with his mother could spell their downfall.

"Kacchan," Izuku called out to him.

Even though he must have heard him, he was ignored.

Izuku gulped, but he persisted.

He treaded carefully through unsteady waters. "I know it's… difficult to see your mother again after that… incident…"

He winced. He wondered if he could have worded that better.

"I'm not mad that she almost killed me," Katsuki scoffed as if it was obvious.

Izuku stared back at the blond as if he grew another head. He might as well have because no one in their right mind can say something that fucked up in the head. He doesn't know what to respond with that.

He sweatdropped. "O-oh?"

Katsuki looked at him as if he could read his mind.

"It may sound barbaric to you," he narrowed his eyes, "But I went into that fight willingly. To us, it would be an honor to fight in that circumstance. I would rather be executed than to surrender pathetically."

Izuku slowly nodded, hanging onto Katsuki's every word. Even though he cannot possibly fathom what pushed this man and his people to have this kind of extreme mindset, he can at least respect the fact that it was an integral part of their world, a world Izuku must learn if he ever hoped to adapt to their culture.

However, if Katsuki was not foaming at the mouth because of his preconceptions, then what rubbed Katsuki so wrongly to be like this?

"She's plotting something," Katsuki spat with venom. "She gave us radio silence for months, and suddenly she wants to see us? She found a lead, and she's gonna use it to threaten us."

"Or maybe," Izuku cut in, "Maybe she wants to make amends."

"Suuuuure," Katsuki dragged out. And pigs would fly. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took so long for her to confront us."

Izuku stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms. Katsuki also stopped once he no longer heard the regular soft pitter-patter of feet following after him.

"Well," Izuku said, "Unlike you, I would like to believe that she came here to reconcile with us."

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Sometimes the green-haired man could be so dense.

"Whether she wants to patch things up or not, this is still fishy as hell." He resumed walking. "And I'm getting to the bottom of it," he said impatiently.

"Wait! Kacchan!" Izuku reached for his hand.

By instinct, Katsuki withdrew his hand from his grasp as if Izuku's touch burned him and whipped around so fast, the air followed his movement. He skidded back.

"Don't touch me!" he lashed out. He hunched his shoulders, as if he was a wildcat protecting his territory.

As a response, Izuku raised his hands in surrender and slowly inched closer. He was surprised that a single touch would set him off this much, but this proved even further how tense Katsuki was.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, hoping that his apology would mollify him for a bit. "I shouldn't have held you like that without permission, but goddammit Kacchan, please listen to me," he spoke in frustration.

Concern was expressed through those radiant emerald eyes. "You can't be like this before you meet your mother." He put his metaphorical foot down and went up in his face. "I won't let you."

Katsuki opened his mouth, ready to challenge Izuku to a fight like old times, to ensure him that he was fine. All he needed was a well-earned session with a punching bag after this meeting, he told himself.

However, one stray thought was implanted into his head, and it was probably all Izuku's fault for rubbing his annoying, anxious tendencies onto him. After all, he knew his mother best, but the same could be said for his mother. She was so sure that they were not in love, and she would blow his cover at the drop of a hat once she has the evidence. A self-assured woman like herself was able to pull that kind of crap.

He tried. He tried to think of ways to counteract, to protect this thin hope he had with Izuku, but it was difficult to logically strategize when he felt his breathing becoming shallow. It started with big gulps of air, as if he lost control of his physiological functions, as if he forgot how to act normal. His muscles were aching even though he didn't train yet today. His head was spinning even though there was no good cause to feel like this.

"Dammit," he cursed in a strained voice.

Izuku hesitated to reach out in fear of worsening Katsuki's current condition, but he chose to be brave.

"Kacchan," he said more softly. "Can I… Can I try to do something?"

Head in his hands, Katsuki glared at the tiles of the floor. The pain felt like a jackhammer pounding into his skull. Though he cannot make eye contact with Izuku, he could feel his presence by his side, but the green-haired man learned his lesson. He did not touch him.

He hated being weak. Worse, he hated asking for help, but he hated showing this side to his mother even more.

"Well?" he asked rhetorically. "Do something."

"Let's try this," Izuku responded. His voice kept its soft volume. "When I tell you to inhale, you take a deep breath and tense up your muscles as much as possible, from your neck and shoulders to the tips of your fingers."

Katsuki listened intently to the soothing cadence of his voice. Before even doing the exercise, he felt the distraction helping him.

"Then I will count to ten," he continued. "After that, I will tell you to exhale through your mouth. While you are exhaling, you will slowly release the tension you built up."

Izuku offered him a slight reassuring smile. "Then we will repeat the process ten more times. Is that ok?"

"Might as well try," he said gruffly. The headache was receding anyway.

Izuku nodded, oddly quiet.

"Inhale," he instructed him.

Katsuki followed what he told him and contracted his abdomen as he filled his lungs with air. He scrunched his shoulders until they reached his neck. He clenched his fingers with the strongest grip he could muster. Then he waited as Izuku counted to ten with a lowered, monotone voice. There was no misstep in his count. It was rhythmic and consistent.

"Exhale," he said, and Katsuki allowed himself to let go, expelling the air and the stress in his body.

They repeated this process for ten times, just like Izuku promised, and Katsuki felt his mind become clearer and emptier, as if he dumped those festering worries away from his head. It reminded him of those quiet moments after battle, those moments soldiers reserved to grieve over their fallen. Katsuki rarely grieved for his servicemen because he understood they fought with valor and courage, so he chose those moments to revel the eerie silence of the battlefield as a way to respect their hard-earned fight.

"Ready?" Izuku interrupted his thoughts.

Katsuki blinked and wondered how long has it been since he blocked out the outside world like this. His breathing was steadier. His mood was calmer.

Admirers would often swoon over Izuku's eyes or his sturdy build, and though Katsuki understood the appeal of the prince, today he understood what sealed the deal for those idiots. Fortunately, he was not one of those people, and he felt sorry for the loser who fell for this foolish, kind-hearted man.

"Yeah," he said and offered Izuku his hand. "We shouldn't make her wait any longer."

Izuku beamed and felt lighter in his step as he procured it.

* * *

Queen Mitsuki looked regal in her attire, wearing a bold, solid wrap dress with an edged neckline. It was a simple design, one that lacked the usual decorations women would choose to wear. The short sleeves of her outfit showed off the musculature of her arms, riddled with scars and cuts from the past. The hem of her dress was parted in the middle, accentuating her long legs, legs that were able to trap Katsuki in his place, hold him down before she twisted and snapped his neck. Rumors once said that her thighs could crush a man's head.

Her head rose up when she heard the two men enter the room. Izuku was sweating profusely, and it worsened with each step he took. He felt it building up from the sweat glands in his hand, and it was definitely not helpful knowing that Katsuki himself had natural sweaty palms. With their hands combined, laced together out of necessity, it was disgusting. They felt as if their joined hands could house mold in a matter of minutes.

After a brief, tense moment of staring, the queen left her position to meet them at the middle. Izuku prepared himself to bow but stopped himself when the queen herself knelt down in front of them. One hand was placed flat on the ground while the other was crossed over her knee in submission. The nape of her neck was visible as she lowered her head, and though Izuku was still learning the proper etiquette of Katsuki's people, he recognized this gesture. There were varying degrees of acceptable apologies, and this apology in particular was the greatest of them all.

Katsuki looked at his mother in bewilderment for she had never done this before in his lifetime. It was more likely for hell to freeze over than his mother to apologize to anyone, especially her own traitorous son.

"I am here to apologize for my many faults," she said, steadfast and true. "My son," she said with a hint of remorse, "I reflected upon my actions over these grueling months. I have ridded you of your childhood and trained you to become a soldier at a young age. I have rejected your choice to become happy and instead misbranded you as a traitor."

From above, Izuku could see the slight tremor in her shoulders. She sounded genuine, sincere. She sounded as if a revelation came across her one morning and changed her perspective forever.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Finally, she lifted her head to make eye contact with her one and only son. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

She made him grow up too soon. She curdled her lip, as if she had trouble containing the tears. "I will not blame you if you dismiss me, but I would like to make amends."

A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and slid down her unblemished cheek.

"I would like to attend your wedding without any notion of bad blood between us," she said. "If you let me."

Izuku placed his hand on his heart, obviously touched by her words. His eyes were threatening to follow her example and cry a river, too, but then Katsuki killed the moment with a metaphorical axe.

He sounded completely undeterred and unaffected when he said, "Hell no, old hag. I won't forgive you."

Izuku made an offended sound in the queen's behalf.

"Kacchan," he said in a hushed voice.

For once, he glared daggers into Katsuki's skull. Then he looked at the queen, who was still kneeling without moving a muscle. He bit his lower lip.

"Please excuse me… Your Highness," he curtly bowed and dragged Katsuki out of the room for a timeout.

Even though he wanted to relieve the queen from her position, he knew better than to exempt her from that in case he violated or disrespected her apology. Once he closed the room and checked that the coast is clear, he caged Katsuki with his arms against the wall. This would disguise this discussion as a sexually charged flirtation or whatever went rampant in their maids' minds these days.

"What are you doing?" he asked him but was mindful to keep the volume low. "This is your chance to bring her back into your life."

"I'm not buying it," Katsuki replied.

"But what if she's sincere?" Izuku pressed on even though it seemed that he was losing this fight.

"And what if she's not?" Katsuki threw back. "What will you do if she cornered you?"

"I'll figure that out on the way, but I really think she's telling us the truth."

"You're not related to her," Katsuki pointed out. "You have no investment in this relationship besides being her son-in-law. Why do you want to forgive her so badly?"

Katsuki's back was against the wall, and he was trapped by Izuku's arms. However, Izuku felt as if it was _his_ back against the wall because Katsuki made a good point. None of this was his business. He does not have to be in the queen's good graces.

What drove him to accept her forgiveness?

Yet, the answer was simple, plain as a normal white tee. Like Katsuki with his values and traditions, Izuku had his, and he was a family-oriented man. The thought of a permanent rift between a mother and a son who deeply cared for each other was unthinkable. He wanted to believe that this was salvageable, that it was not beyond repair, because he saw the way they looked at each other with longing. Their look was one only a mother and a son with a bond could share. Izuku would know because he had the same look for his mother whenever he was away from home for a long period of time.

However, he could not explain that, especially to someone as bullheaded as Katsuki. Knowing him, he would deflect his observations as dilly-dallying and kick his own mother out of the castle just to spite him.

"Please," he insisted.

He lowered his eyes in frustration. He curled his hands into fists. He sounded pathetic, he bet, but anything he could come up with felt unconvincing to the man.

"Please," he repeated weakly with a tremor to his bottom lip.

Katsuki stared at him and gave him a hard look. His expression showed no sign of being swayed, but his answer said otherwise.

"Fine," he sighed and slid his hand down his face in exhaustion.

Through his fingers, his calculating, piercing stare bore into Izuku's eyes, and Izuku shuddered under its effect. Katsuki knocked his hands out of the way.

"However," he warned, "This means that you are prepared for the consequences."

Izuku numbly nodded and was surprised that Katsuki was willing to agree to his request. He pinched himself, but the initial sting did little to change his mind. This was actually real. They entered back in the room and found the queen still rooted at the spot. She looked like a statue from afar, and Izuku was mildly impressed that she held herself rigidly like that. This was proof of her build and physique.

Katsuki was the first to talk. "I will give you one chance," he told her.

He looked at her with an unrelenting stare. "Tomorrow we will do an activity of your choice. If you happen to offend my husband and me during your stay, then I will not hesitate to ask you to leave. Understand?"

Queen Mitsuki looked at her son and promptly agreed to his conditions. Izuku smiled as he watched her finally stand and embrace her son. At first, Izuku was concerned if their future conversations would be stiff. His fears were unneeded as the two discussed over current events happening at their home after they had let go of each other, and Izuku felt content wash over him as Katsuki slowly loosened up while animatedly talking with his mother.

He also learned that tomorrow they will embark on a short hike at Mission Peak, a 350-plus-mile hiking trail Katsuki was quite fond of. He often disappeared there to cool off his hot head. Though they would take one of the shorter routes since they did not have the luxury to spend the entire day there, but at least it would be the perfect opportunity for some mother-son bonding time.

From afar, the two looked as if there was never a strain in their relationship. As they were finishing up with the planning, Izuku had an idea. He stepped forward and clung to Katsuki's side. Then he tiptoed and left a small peck on Katsuki's cheek.

"Thanks," he whispered, which earned a grunt in Katsuki's part.

Izuku smiled. Though he had to pull teeth to earn it, they were cooperating, and that was what matters most. This knowledge brought a flutter of hope in his chest. Call him greedy, but an insignificant part of him yearned for the queen's acceptance because not only would this make the marriage easier, this would potentially lighten the load in Katsuki's heart.

At the corner of his eye, he captured the faintest twitch in Queen Mitsuki's lips. Perhaps she was amused by their awkward by loving displays.

* * *

The next day started off with a blast. During breakfast, Izuku felt like a fish out of water as he watched Katsuki and his mother scarf down their meat-filled dishes with vigor and intensity. The green-haired man slowly ate his rice and drank his soup as the two battled over who could finish first. Most likely they were not competing at all, but it sure looked like they were with their pacing.

Izuku also surmised that this was a habit born from the war since soldiers were rarely given a break to relax and eat. Back then, Izuku was also in that same category, but over the past few months, he was reteaching himself to slow down and let his taste buds savor the flavors.

"Dammit old hag!" Katsuki screamed from across the table. "That was my fish!"

"Suck it brat!" Queen Mitsuki stuck out her tongue and proceeded to stuff his fish into her mouth. "It's your fault for chewing too slow! What did you expect?!"

With that, they continued to bicker at the dining table.

The addition of another Bakugou was _loud_. They were noisy. They were rambunctious. And yet, they were _home_.

Izuku missed having a family meal, and he forgot that he sometimes dealt with the pang of homesickness. It was incredibly depressing that he could only count the number of family meals he had in the past with his fingers. His biological father was an ass, rightfully so, but at least he found a father figure in Toshinori Yagi. Together with his mother, they were happy, and though their time together as a reformed family was shortened due to his hastened marriage, he savored those little talks, those comforting moments where they could feel normalcy again. He took a mental note to have a family meal once he visited home.

"Hey Deku," Katsuki called out to him. "You done yet?"

Izuku shook out of his stupor. Katsuki and his mother were done, and they were pushing in their chairs. Izuku subsequently got up and did the same.

"Y-yes!" he said, internally grateful that he finished beforehand.

Next, they headed to the hiking trail. The view was great, Izuku noted, while taking snapshots here and there. Although he visited the place a couple of times, his schedule was too packed to religiously hike here on the weekends like Katsuki. Besides, Katsuki came here to escape, so Izuku would have defeated his purpose to come here if he imposed.

He was mostly alone as he climbed upwards with his camera in his hands. Katsuki and his mother had a head start and ran uphill to reach the peak. They agreed to hike in one of the lesser trails, so Izuku was not too concerned about being lost since they were going in the same direction. He even met some cows loitering around the area and greeted the cowherd who was tending them.

Before he continued onward, he asked him, "Excuse me, sir, but have you recently crossed paths with anybody else?"

"If you are referring to those two individuals who were the incarnate of hellhounds five minutes ago, I reckon I did."

Izuku let out a soft snort. "I see," he said with an amused tone. "Thank you."

The cowherd tipped his hat, and Izuku bowed in return.

When he reached the peak, he found them splayed out on the ground, chests heaving and breaths gasping for air. It was difficult to determine a winner, but based on their pinkish faces, they exerted themselves until the end.

"Stupid Deku…" Katsuki wheezed. "Water…"

"Food…" his mother choked out.

Izuku forgot that he was their supplier and quickly jogged to their half-dead, prone bodies. He unzipped his bag and brought out the water bottle. Katsuki perked up at the sound of an uncapped bottle and the contents sloshing inside, snatched the container from Izuku's hands, and guzzled it empty as if it was his last drink on earth. Queen Mitsuki did not fare better as she vacuumed her sandwich like a starving woman. Izuku recorded the whole ordeal, but then he stopped when he saw Katsuki choking on his rice balls, pounding on his chest for him to swallow them down.

"Chew more slowly, Kacchan," Izuku reprimanded as he crawled over to where he sat and handed him another water bottle.

"I do what I want," he replied immaturely and took another bite of the rice ball.

He ate that at a noticeably slower speed.

Satisfied, Izuku checked on Queen Mitsuki, who was overviewing the sight. The castle was the prominent structure, but the town was bustling with life and vitality. Springtime was fast approaching, and Izuku anticipated the moment when the flower buds would bloom. The springtime gusts of wind would pick up the cherry blossom petals, leaving the air with a nice, fragrant scent. From above, it felt like they were at the top of the world.

"It's beautiful here," she said reverently.

"It is," Izuku agreed as he sat beside her.

He tucked his knees under his chin and allowed the breeze to caress his hair. The buzzing of the insects nearby drowned out the sounds of Katsuki smacking his lips as he finished his last bites. He side-eyed his future mother-in-law when she began to chuckle.

"This reminds me of the first time I saved Katsuki's father," she said.

"Oh?" Izuku said with interest. "What happened?"

Unlike Izuku, who fawned and adored his friends and family as if they were the stars on the sky and never hesitated to go off on a wordy trek about them, Katsuki was a silent rock. He accumulated most of the information about Katsuki's side from clippings and videos and from word-of-mouth. Sure, Izuku could respect Katsuki's need to keep everything private, but sometimes they proved to be a setback, especially when he communicated with his friends and family. Kaminari was a prime example.

"Years ago," she started, "Before Katsuki was born, my husband was traveling to visit Emperor Todoroki to discuss about his rebel factions littering along the coast since they were disruptive in our shipments. Imagine my surprise when I received news hearing that he was ambushed and used to pay for ransom."

Izuku leaned in, enthusiastic to hear about this. He was not aware of these events, which meant that they were so trivial that they couldn't even make a stamp in history, but he loved listening to these stories. They were what made him attracted to All Might in the first place.

"What did you do?" he asked, excited.

"Well," she said smugly and brought out her arm and swung it. "I got out there screaming like a banshee and destroyed the rebels who dared touch my husband."

She had a manic look in her eye as she said this, remembering the bloodshed and the bloodlust she had for her victis.

"Weren't you outnumbered? They should have been prepared for you."

"They were," she said with a cocky tilt. "But you see, I'm a vicious fighter, especially when it comes to the people I love."

Out of reflex, she held her ring finger, the one with the long, serpent-like dragon wrapped around it. It was a dark red color with thick, blackened linework. Izuku had once mistakenly thought that she used her blood to paint it before he realized how ridiculous and impossible that sounded.

"When I finally saved him," she said. "It was a beautiful day. Just like this."

Izuku could envision her younger days, a female version of Katsuki wreaking havoc in the lands with a fierce grin and emboldened eyes.

Then she said, "One word of advice for you, Izuku."

She gave him a placative smile. Izuku smiled in return.

"We members of the Bakugou family love deeply," she said, her smile forming into a straight line. "When we see the people we love in danger, we tend to make drastic decisions," she explained.

She clasped her hand over Izuku's, which jolted him from the sudden contact.

"Please watch over Katsuki knowing that."

Even though it sounded like she was confiding her fears and concerns to him, Izuku did not feel like she was asking him to take care of her son. He felt like it was the opposite and felt an underlying sense of unease, especially from the rigid set of her expression. Her vibes were telling him that she would rather die than to hand her son over to him, and that left Izuku greatly confused.

He would soon retrieve the answers he wanted very soon, for hours later, Katsuki's mother asked him if he could spare some time to sip tea with her.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for your lovely comments. They were very heartening. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

On the night Izuku met Katsuki, they signed the contract over a cup of yellow tea. Izuku learned early on that the prince was a stickler for contracts as he pointed out conditions and clauses and whatnots. The location they met was at a private room Todoroki offered them while he attended his close-knit party. Todoroki's realm was an identified neutral zone, giving Izuku that extra boost of confidence to meet the mysterious Bakugou Katsuki in secret. He was as abrasive and harsh like the rumors said, but he was a rational man. He laid out the groundwork for this contract, and Izuku only chimed in whenever he needed to modify a bullet point or add an extra condition.

However, paper was meaningless these days. This was just a formality. Bonds and promises was strengthened through acts and symbolism, and in this case, they shared their discussion of their eventual wedding over a cup of yellow tea. Yellow tea was extremely rare and expensive in these lands, and they had to be imported from one province before acquiring it. A promise made over yellow tea was unbreakable, and breaking that promise was asking for a curse. Their people adopted this custom, and it was one of the fewest traditions their kingdoms shared.

"No."

Izuku festered over the hem of his shirt, knowing that Katuski would not take the news of this invitation lightly.

"But Kacchan," he reasoned, "If I deny her, it would be too suspicious."

"I don't care," Katsuki swiveled around. "This is a red flag. She wants to speak with you privately in a place where I can't be there to monitor you."

Izuku was tempted to argue back, but he clamped his mouth shut. He bit his bottom lip and glanced back at Katsuki.

"I'm… wary," he confessed, remembering the eerie glint in her eyes as she held his hands, squeezed them so tightly to a point where he couldn't feel the circulation in them.

"But I don't know what to do," he sighed and looked up to Katsuki for guidance. "Either way, we lose. In the end, I have to confront her myself."

He accepted this outcome. He'll fight to the bitter end, but they were running out of options and time.

Katsuki acknowledged this as well as he dragged his hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know," he said, "Even I won't be able to improvise a plan."

He leaned his back against the wall and stared up at the multi-colored lacquered ceiling, pondering over their dilemma as his mother went out to fetch her tea equipment and leaves.

"Remember our promise that night?" he asked Izuku.

Mirroring his husband-to-be, Izuku leaned back at the opposite end of the wall, but instead of crossing his arms in contemplation, he laid his hands at his side.

"Yes," he replied softly. "How can I ever forget?"

War-torn and broken, Izuku made a gamble and traveled far and wide to meet this man he never met. He heard about the rumors of Bakugou's brutality, his thirst for bloodshed, but Izuku was confident enough to have a civil, political meeting with him. After all, he was protected within these walls. Todoroki would avenge his death if Bakugou was foolish enough to spill blood in these neutral lands. Though they disliked each other to the point where their animosity for the other was palpable, they negotiated all night, drinking yellow tea while making the finishing touches to their contract. They wanted this war to end. They wished for peace. Though he remembered the stiffness, the jilted talks they shared, he also remembered their passion, the desperate need to save their kingdoms.

"Remember that promise," Katsuki told him. "Don't forget the tea we shared," he added. "Whatever she says, whatever she offers you, don't take it. Even if you empathize with her, don't fall for it."

"I won't," he said, clenching his fist, "I won't reveal this secret under any circumstances."

Then they said, in tandem, "We will stick together until the very end." These words were an echo from months ago. "Until death do us part."

They shared a look, one that materialized this solemn vow. It was a look that cannot be penetrated by even the most obstinate distractions.

"What are you talking about?" A voice chimed in.

Katsuki and Izuku noticeably flinched and broke the spell. They turned their heads to the queen, rapidly approaching them with a platter of teacups and a teapot.

"Nothing," they answered simultaneously and cursed themselves for sounding so suspicious. They were failing at being subtle.

Queen Mitsuki tilted her head with a doting grin.

"Ah, young love," she sighed dreamily. If her hands weren't so preoccupied, she would have placed her hand on her cheek and cooed over them. "Seeing you makes me ache for Masaru," she said.

Katsuki wrinkled his nose and faked a gag. "Don't be nasty, mom."

Though her hands were not free enough to slap the daylights out of her bratty child, her killer heels were an appropriate replacement. She stabbed his foot with one pointed heel with a devilish smirk and felt unapologetic when she heard his yelp.

"Shut up, you ingrate," she huffed. "Your manners are horrendous as always. I bet you didn't even offer Izuku an animal offering since you're so uncouth."

Katsuki was rough around the edges, but he was not completely hopeless.

Stepping close to his side, Izuku piped up, "He did." Then he said proudly, "He got me a pigeon."

His intention was to defend his betrothed, and yet he got elbowed.

"Shut up," Katsuki said with bated breath.

Izuku side-eyed him and assumed that he was just embarrassed, but no, unfortunately, he assumed wrong.

"A pigeon," Queen Mitsuki gasped. It was apparent that a pigeon was downright criminal. "What the fuck, Katsuki? What kind of weak ass present is that?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes and tuned out her yapping.

"Youth these days," his mother started. "Back in my time, I wrestled a _bear_ and offered its carcass to your father before we wed. I took painstaking means to dress it as well. Bears in general have a horrendous stench depending on their diet, so therefore, I had to quickly take out the innards. In addition, to preserve its pelt…"

Katsuki watched the glossy sheen of the ceiling and wistfully thought about how he should invest in some nice earplugs soon.

".. If I got him anything less than that, your grandfather would have skinned me for such an insulting gift. Step up your game, you useless son," she continued on with her tirade. "Get him something better than a _pigeon_."

Izuku paled. He does not want dead animals, especially large ones, on his doorstep. He does not want that blood on his hands.

"You're not going to do that, are you?" he whispered.

"Fuck no," Katsuki said aloud.

Izuku always asked him stupid questions. Katsuki was going to tell him exactly that, but then he caught his mother's keen eyes, perusing their exchange with a straitlaced face.

"I'm going to get you something better," he said, challenging his mother with his heated gaze. "Expect a shark and a tiger by the end of this week."

Izuku was unsure if Katsuki was addressing that to his mother or him.

"That's more like it," his mother said with a sniff, and then turned to her future son-in-law.

"Izuku, darling," she called out his name with a honeyed voice. "Can you be a dear and open the door for me, please? My hands are full."

She lifted the tray to prove her point, and Izuku, without a moment to lose, scrambled to get the door open and held it open for her. They both entered the room without turning their backs. Katsuki stared at their receding figures with trepidation until the door closed, but he said all that he could.

Now, he waits.

However, his wait was short-lived when one of his mother's escorts jogged up to him and bowed.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," the portly man wheezed, "There seems to be some activity at the front gates, and Lord Kirishima calls for your presence."

Katsuki raised one eyebrow. Surely Shitty Hair can handle a small spat, but if it was serious enough to beckon him, he supposed his authority was needed. With one last glance at the door, he left.

Inside the room, Izuku sat at one end of the table, observing the queen's movements with unease and caution. The light-flooded room was brightly lit and had a whole wall dedicated for long, high windows. The maroon velvet curtains were pulled back just for this occasion. Another section was covered by a giant glassless mirror that spanned across the room. Izuku knew he should explore this castle more often and was not familiar with this room, but he surmised that its purpose was to help nobles and maids alike with their posture and duties. With this mirror, one would be able to observe oneself and make corrections.

"We never had a chance to talk like this," Queen Mitsuki said pleasantly as she began to set up.

"Yes…" he answered back, slightly nervous.

The tea set laid in front of him was crafted beautifully. The porcelain cups were decorated with colorful, raised, and detailed dragons, spiraling around the cup as its protector. The tips of the tails were a muddy brown, but the colors gradually transitioned to a muted blue once they reached the head. The saucers were remarkable by itself, and their presence accentuated the beauty of the set. The hand-painted mountains were stunning and surreal, as if the artist simply used a wet brush and dripped the colors onto it, fanning out its faded hues.

"I always wondered," Queen Mitsuki broke the silence. "My son will be the one to choose his successor for the throne, but…"

She took the teapot by the handle and poured the hot liquid into his cup.

"Where do you come into play in all this?"

If he had the freedom to do so, like he did with Katsuki, Izuku would have paced around the room to walk out the jitters in his system, but here he was, glued to his seat, his legs bouncing incessantly.

"I'm the ninth child in the bloodline," he said and licked his lips. They felt dry. "Most likely I will not succeed the throne, especially since my father was overthrown by Toshinori Yagi. Your kingdom is in no danger of that kind of conflict."

"But some of your half-siblings are dead," the queen pointed out and began to pour her own cup of tea. "Don't write yourself off just yet. There's still a possibility of you taking the throne."

Izuku shook his head. "Toshinori Yagi had already announced his protégé Mirio Togata as the successor," he explained. "This was a special case, and even if the crown was offered to me, I would not accept it."

"Interesting," she commented and took a sip.

Izuku felt parched, both from this charged exchange and the hike from earlier, so he daintily took his cup with a quick word of thanks. However, when he glanced down, his stomach plummeted.

This fragrance, or lack thereof, was distinct. It would be hard to miss the strong, earthy smell of green tea, but this was not green tea. It was unmistakable.

It was yellow tea.

Izuku pursed his lips and lowered his cup. He refused to drink it, refusing even the rim to touch his lips.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I have a proposal," she announced and brandished a case from underneath the table. It was well hidden when Izuku stepped into the room.

It was ironic to be thrusted back into this situation again. Izuku couldn't help but inwardly laugh at the utter ridiculousness of it. It was odd, seeing the similarities between Katsuki and his mother firsthand. Her proposition took him back to that first night where they met, where Katsuki failed to initiate small talk and gave up before going right into the nitty-gritty.

"Five million yen," she told him and slammed the load onto the table. "All of it can be yours."

She approached him slowly until she towered over him. He rose his head and made eye contact with those striking red eyes. Katsuki's stare was imposing and strong. Her stare was somber and worn.

"This would be your first payment," she explained. "And we will continue to wire you money as much as you please. You can use this money for hospitals, orphanages, education…"

"At what cost?" Izuku cut in. He was intimidated, but he would not bend.

"I can see that my son has chosen well for his plans," the queen stated and reached down to hold Izuku's chin.

There was a flicker of regret in her expression. "You look so much like your mother," she stated.

Izuku responded, "You knew my mother?"

Her hand slid up his neck until it rested on his cheek. Queen Mitsuki thumbed the corners of his eyes as if he was precious.

"I knew her." Her hands were warm and soft. "I was surprised to find out that you were her son, but now I see the resemblance."

She was a young firecracker in her youth. Before she was the rightful queen of Nethereal, she was a simple tomboyish girl with simple pleasures. One of them was befriending a common girl named Inko, and though she was from the kingdom of Esphur, they often crossed the borders to meet. At the time, a time that felt so long ago due to this recent war, their kingdoms had amicable relations and rarely had skirmishes.

"We were good friends," she said, dazed, but then her face turned stormy and dark. "But then you father took her as his bride."

Her face showed her distaste. She looked as if she caught a whiff of some pungent, rancid smell.

"I never liked that man," she said.

Izuku agreed. "Yeah…"

His face soured as well.

"Me too."

"That's why…" Queen Mitsuki backed off and gave them a short distance. "Knowing that Inko raised you, I hoped that you were a good kid and that this was just a big misunderstanding."

She gestured toward the briefcase. "I'm not asking much. I'm not expecting you to do it so suddenly. After all, people need time to adjust and accept this time of peace and prosperity. I'll even give you a year or two, but I want you to divorce my son and break off the marriage in congenial terms."

Izuku stood still, frozen in place.

" _What?"_ he asked.

The queen went more in-depth. "I believe a year or two is an appropriate time frame for you to break it off. I am well aware of your lowly status despite your role as a prince and your relations with All Might. After the divorce, your court would mostly likely not welcome you since you are no longer a valuable pawn to them, and your presence in the castle would only rouse suspicion over All Might's true loyalties."

Izuku felt the perspiration in his forehead. The room felt stuffy and humid. She was right on the mark.

"Then you would probably return to that impoverished village you call home and scrounge everything you can find to help your people."

The queen looked at him with pity.

"That's why I will compensate you greatly for this sacrifice. With this money, you can do so much and more."

Izuku turned a blind eye to that familiar greed, the kind that pulled at his strings. Indeed, he would achieve his goals quicker with this route rather than being flooded with distractions, but a promise was a promise. A vow was a vow.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he told her in conciliatory manner. "Though I am humbled by your concerns, Kacchan and I are in lo-"

"DON'T. LIE TO ME," she snarled viciously.

Izuku jumped. Her voice boomed across the room. His teacup rattled from the intensity of her words.

"You don't love each other," she counteracted. "I can understand your need to lie in front of the public, but you cannot lie to me."

"I-"

"Don't try," she said with disdain, her lips curling into a frown. "I had my qualms about you and your involvement with Hisashi's death. Please don't make this worse for you."

It felt like a thunderclap came out from nowhere. Izuku was shaken. Katsuki was right. She knew more than he expected. He swallowed the lump lodged in his throat.

"All Might killed him," he tried, "I didn't-"

She silenced him by slamming the tabletop with her palm.

"You orchestrated the assassination," she said stonily. "You were instrumental to the entire plan. All Might couldn't have easily rooted out Hisashi and his supporters…"

Her eyes flickered to Izuku, who sat there like a deer in headlights.

"Unless there was a mole inside, one who was important enough to bait that heartless man."

She then stared at Izuku, daring him to protest or say otherwise, but he stayed silent. She sniffed. Her first impression of the green-haired prince was a weak, sniveling man just like his useless father. She questioned over her son's choice to choose this unreliable man. After she caught wind of Izuku's entanglement with Hisashi's death, she worried for Katsuki's safety and the future of Nethereal. However, she had to be rational about this. She discussed her fears with her advisor, Aizawa, and he told her to research more, to be sure of Izuku's intentions, rather than making baseless assumptions.

Aizawa, wise as ever, was right. If he was truly despicable and vile as she claimed, a man like Izuku Midoriya would never use his body as a shield to protect her son. A man like Izuku Midoriya would never kill his own father and reject the crown without reason.

"It sounds inappropriate to say this… But thank you. For removing your father."

"…"

"My son doesn't know about this, does he?"

"No."

Queen Mitsuki nodded forlornly. That was another discussion for another time, but now she must stray away from this tangent.

"I will leave it up to you to tell him later," she said. "But now," she patted the briefcase," We have more important matters to discuss."

"I won't accept it," said Izuku. "I love Kacchan. I don't want to leave him," he lied.

"You are one stubborn bastard," said the queen. Izuku was unsure if she was commending him or mocking him. "I guess in the end I have to resort to this."

Her hand clamped on his shoulder and locked him to his seat as if she wanted to ensure he wouldn't have any means of escape.

"I have to say," she said somberly, "I have to applaud my son's makeup skills. Katsuki has definitely improved over the years. Wouldn't you agree, Izuku?"

Then she brought her fingers to his face, rubbing them against each other, showing him that they were dusted with pinkish, blueish powder. It was the same eyeshadow Katsuki used to make his hickey.

Startled, Izuku brought his hand to his neck and checked the mirror. It was a mistake to do so, and he realized this as Queen Mitsuki's smile grew into a Cheshire's grin. She must have smudged the hickey during the time she examined his face. This was all a trick for him to confirm her suspicions, and his reaction hit the final nail in the coffin.

However, what mattered was that she now had leverage. With a snap of her fingers, she could reveal their secret and have him executed on the spot. She is the one who could call the shots.

"I am going to be merciful to you, Izuku. I want to believe that you're not a bad kid. Do the smart choice and accept this offer."

The yellow tea was still there, tempting him to drink its lukewarm contents and seal the deal. Yet, one question burned within him, one that was hovering over his head ever since she invited him.

Izuku added more feeling, inputted more conviction into his words. "How many times do I have to say it? I _love_ him."

Even though he was fighting a losing battle, he would never throw Katsuki under the bus. He was not that type of man.

"Even though you may love him," Katsuki's mother said and looked at Izuku with disgust. Irritation rubbed against him. "He doesn't love you."

"Why isn't Kacchan here?" he finally asked her. "Shouldn't he have a say in this matter? Why are you taking that choice away from him?"

She looked at him with vitriol, and it left Izuku confused, distracted. He doesn't understand.

"I know my son," she said. "I accepted him for who he is, and yet now I see him acting like a horndog who can't get enough of you," she spat out. "It's his fault for not being honest with himself, and that is why I cannot trust him in making the right decisions."

Izuku backtracked, trying to nitpick the clues, the instances that would make sense of her words. A slimy, slithering feeling began to coil in his gut, but still, he doesn't understand.

Katsuki's insistence to mouthwash after every kiss. His refusal to bring prostitutes into his tent. His heightened aggression after their displays of affection. Mitsuki's reaction after Izuku kissed Katsuki's cheek. Katsuki's discomfort as they pretended to have sex.

It was like a chain reaction with the links setting into place. It was like looking at the bigger picture, seeing it with a bird's eye view. It was like dumping sewage into the ocean. It was like pouring a bucket of ice on his back.

Queen Mitsuki may have apologized, but she never apologized to Izuku, that he knew for certain.

If she was thinking what he was thinking, then he felt like trash.

He felt like the scum of the earth.

It hurt. It never occurred to him that he was hurting Katsuki all this time, to be the bane of his pain. He thought they were fine, that they were slowly understanding each other at their own pace. He assumed that their relationship was finally brightening up, but it was anything but.

"As you can see," Queen Mitsuki interrupted his guilt trip. "This relationship is detrimental from the start, and you would only hurt yourselves if you continue this path. Give this sham of a marriage a year or two and then file for divorce. That way, both of you can have your happy ending."

A happy ending, Izuku thought bitterly. He doesn't even know what a happy ending would entail. He doesn't even know if that exists. A happy ending was a pipe dream, and that was it.

He felt the splinter in his resolve. He was so tempted to accept the offer, to take it and never look back, but was it worth it? Was it worth risking Katsukis trust? Izuku took painstaking means to build that fragile trust between them, and he was reluctant to betray it. However, at the end of the day, this agreement was for Katsuki, for this infuriating, wonderful and brilliant man. His attitude left much to desire, and he always seemed willing to lock horns with the world. On the other hand, he owned these values, took it to heart, and was willing to fight for his people. He was powerful, strong, and a force to be reckoned with. He was everything Izuku envied and admired.

That is why before he made his ultimate decision, one clear thought stood out like a sore thumb. He had to ask himself this.

 _What would Kacchan do?_

And once he thought of this, before he could even take notes and create flow charts over the endless possibilities, he had already reached a conclusion. There was no need to create a pros and cons list. There was no need to debate over the implications of his decision, for he had already witnessed what Katsuki would do if the man was ever backed into a corner. It's quite funny how life runs in circles, and with that, Izuku knew what he must do.

He turned his head to the mirror and stared back at his reflection. This was not only for himself. This was for the soldiers who lost their lives in battle. This was for the people who never knew peace.

"No," he said, more strongly and more reassured.

He stood up with the air of a prince, of the man who harnessed the power of One for All. This woman may not have a lie detecting quirk, but she was someone who valued honesty. Just like how Katsuki valued devotion and loyalty, this woman had her own set of values, and Izuku must honor them.

Therefore, he said, "I have a proposal for you."

He lifted his teacup and downed it in one go. He grimaced; he never liked the taste of cold tea, but once he fixed his facial features, he began to speak.

"Here is my vow. Here is my word. No matter what hardships we face, no matter what trials await us, I promise you, Queen Mitsuki, that I will always stay by Kacchan's side until the end of time."

Strangely, he was not afraid. Strangely, it felt just right.

"So." Katsuki's mother took her cup and slid her finger across the rim. "This is your answer. Even knowing everything, even at the face of execution, this was your choice."

Usually Izuku's heart would beat rapidly, waiting on a thin thread to hear her verdict and by extension, his death. Yet, oddly enough, his heart was steady and true; he held no regrets.

"I want to hear everything from Kacchan himself," he told her. "I will talk with him about that issue later, but since he's not here at the moment, I will not make that call." He said this with his head held high. "I refuse to take this choice away from him."

There they stood at a standoff, waiting for the other to drop their gaze. Then Queen Mitsuki released a defeated sigh and visibly deflated.

"Indeed, my son has chosen a stubborn one," she said tiredly and chuckled. "I wanted to push a bit more, but how can I after facing such earnestness?"

Without further ado, she took her teacup and gulped the remains. "I guess I can see why he chose you out of the others. You guys are made for each other, I suppose," she added with a wry smile.

The heavy atmosphere from earlier was finally lifted and replaced with a lighter tone. Humming an unidentified tune, Katsuki's mother refilled their cups, not planning on wasting this fine, expensive tea.

"Well, since that's over," she sat at her appointed seat. "I guess I can leave you actual words of advice instead of a layered threat."

She took a sip of the yellow tea, her tongue relishing its delicate flavor, and watched in amusement as Izuku looked at her apprehensively. After all, she had almost blackmailed him not too long ago.

"Katsuki may not appreciate your 'advances'," she gestured quotation marks as she said this, "But he does appreciate a friend."

"Well, that's obvious," Izuku muttered under his breath.

Katsuki's mother laughed with a hint of mirth in her voice.

"Thank you," she said. "Not only for your father, but also for being by Katsuki's side. I have many regrets as both a queen and a mother."

Sometimes she loved too much, and sometimes that love was misplaced. At least she has Masaru by her side, to help her reign in those emotions. Her eyes softened as she took another sip.

"I'm not expecting this soon, but I hope that someday…" She wore a complicated expression. "I hope that someday you can convince my son to visit Nethereal more often. His home misses him."

Izuku understood and translated what she meant. She misses her son, and that plea did not go unheard.

It seemed as if they let bygones be bygones. After they finished their tea, they made their way out of the room with the tension between them relieved and mostly gone. Instead, they chatted more about wedding tattoos. Mainly, they discussed over how Izuku could find a compromise on the design.

While they were searching for Katsuki's whereabouts, Izuku found inspiration for his wedding tattoo. He could go a different route and choose a nontraditional, contemporary one. There was nothing in the rules that forced them to have a classic design.

Ecstatic, Izuku thanked her, but then he noticed a shift in her expression and looked in her direction. They were heading to the training grounds since they were unable to locate Katsuki within the perimeter of the castle. They found Katsuki, but they also met a peaceful protest outside of the vicinity.

"They must have gathered here since the date of the wedding is so close," Izuku commented.

He was not surprised. Ever since the announcement of their marriage, there was opposition left and right. Some people demonstrated their opposition through the form of protests, but back then, they were more violent and bloody since both factions from the kingdoms often clashed. There was a lesser volume of those demonstrations nowadays, which he was glad about, but he couldn't help but glance at the queen with concern.

"Deku."

Katsuki was among the guards.

"Take my mother back into the castle. She has no place here."

Izuku agreed. Her presence would only serve to cause more problems. After all, she was partially the blame for these people's grievances and was guiding her back to the castle, but then at the corner of his eye, he saw it. At first, he thought it was a trick of the light, but his eyes widened when he knew what was wrong. He recognized that scraggly red scarf from anywhere.

"WATCH OUT!" he hollered and used his quirk to catch the blade aimed for the queen's head.

It happened suddenly. The crowd immediately dispersed and went about in different directions, confused and scared that an actual attack occurred. Even though he had the chance to shatter the dagger, Izuku was too pumped with adrenaline to care. It was stupid and foolish to throw a dagger at the head. That was plain sloppy and inconvenient, but that made Izuku's life easier. There was one criminal he could name who would try such a flashy move.

He hissed as he realized he had accidentally cut himself amid stopping that blade in midair. He discarded the blade and left it for the queen to defend herself, confident that she could protect her own hide.

Izuku's eyes scanned the peripheral area. Although people were scurrying about everywhere, he was confident that he could find the culprit. It was a split second, but it was long enough to remember their face, and once he homed in on that noticeable red scarf, he was on the move. The perpetrator was a lizard-like man, and though he had a head start, he could never hope to accomplish a successful escape. Not on Izuku's watch.

He used 40% of his quirk and landed squarely on the man's back, knocking him unconscious as he was tackled into the ground. Although every fiber of his being wanted to interrogate him, he couldn't risk his only lead committing suicide through a hidden cyanide pill or the ilk.

As he moved to rip off his clothing to temporarily bind this man until he could find proper handcuffs, he noticed that his movements were sluggish. Slow. Numb. He attempted to call out for some assistance, but he couldn't even open his mouth. Revelation dawned upon him, and Izuku cursed himself for not realizing it sooner. Without a doubt this man was a disciple of Stain, and to mimic his crimes and quirk, the knife Izuku caught earlier was laced with poison, a type of paralyzing agent that would keep Izuku immobilized for good. Next, he collapsed into the ground since his muscles could no longer support him. He couldn't blink, couldn't show any sign of consciousness. Another minute passed by, and he struggled to breathe, his airways slowly being clogged by mucus.

Izuku felt terrified.

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. He wanted to cry out as he progressively suffocated to his death. He doesn't want to die, he thought. He doesn't want to die alone. Fear gripped him tight, and he mourned. He wondered if this was the end, to die such a mediocre death next to this wannabe Stain.

Then Izuku's saving grace appeared.

"Deku?"

Izuku heard some shuffling at his side, and before he knew it, he was turned over to face Katuski looming over him.

There was a sense of urgency in his voice. "Shit, can you hear me Deku?" He shook his shoulder to gain a response. "Blink if you can."

Izuku couldn't blink. He couldn't do anything. Instead, they were losing time.

Katsuki cursed again and hovered his hand over his face to check for breathing, but he felt nothing.

"Fuck," he whispered as he checked for Izuku's pulse. "Help!" he yelled out. "He's not breathing!"

There was a heartbeat, but action needed to be taken swiftly. He pulled Izuku's forehead back and pulled his chin to give him two life-saving breaths. Still, there was no sign of breathing.

"Don't you dare die on me," Katsuki told him, and that was the last bit Izuku heard before he blacked out, before he lost consciousness. The last thing he registered was the feel of Katsuki's lips upon his and the frantic feel of chest compressions keeping him alive. Then, Izuku finally let go.


	7. Chapter 7

Before they called it a night, Izuku and Katsuki had a routine, regardless if they slept together or not. While Katsuki jogged for miles at the borders of their property, Izuku stayed at home and focused on his breathing exercises, meditative stretches that would help unwind him from the day's stresses. As Katsuki showered off the grime and sweat, Izuku would methodically turn on his night light, resume reading a book he last marked, and bundle himself in a nest of blankets and pillows. On the last vestiges of consciousness, Izuku would then groggily wish Katsuki a good night as the blond dipped the bed and buried himself in his own set of covers. They would sleep side-by-side, their skin never touching but their warmth was shared.

This was their routine. This was how they slept.

And this was how Izuku kept the nightmares at bay.

Izuku lost consciousness without meaning to, thereby ruining his routine, and before he could will his mind to stop the dream, he froze in place and saw _her_.

She stood at the center with her hair as white as snow and her eyes as red as roses. She was a sweet, young girl with unkempt hair and a cute, little horn peeking out on the right side of her forehead. Bandages were wrapped around her arms; scars and burn marks were etched into her skin.

His mind was a cruel and merciless entity, attacking him like a vicious viper. He felt his knees go weak. He felt the tears burning in his eyes.

He knew what she would say, but her uttered words still left him breathless. It still made him rack in grief.

"It's all your fault," she told him, expressionless.

Izuku was heartbroken, ashamed. He trembled under her gaze, but he refused to avert his eyes. He couldn't.

"I know," he said with liquid acid going down his throat. "I know," he said in a choked voice, almost breaking into a sob.

Then to his horror he found himself back on the ground, paralyzed and helpless once again, and worse, he knew what came next. He struggled to move as his panic heightened by each second. He was frantically clawing towards Eri, but she was so far, so alone. No matter what, it was the same outcome, and this nightmare was no different.

Even so, Izuku could not give up. He wouldn't.

He screamed for Eri, he pleaded for Eri, but the weight on his chest, the weight of his uselessness rooted him to this spot. He would burn a thousand suns to save her. He would break his bones until they were dust if he could save her.

He cried. He despaired.

He sobbed as he watched her perish. He wailed as Iida took his prone body further away from her remains.

Then he woke up in a start, his limbs thrashing about and his lungs chasing for air like a drowning man. His throat seized up as his tear-streaked face whipped around to gauge his surroundings. There was Katsuki, standing at a reasonable distance with a grim look on his face.

"Deku, hey," he said, slow and steady. He took heavy footsteps.

Izuku adjusted himself with shaky arms until he was sitting properly. His head turned to Katsuki's direction, and he held onto Katsuki's gravelly voice like a blanket of warmth and security. He blinked rapidly. He felt disoriented.

"It's me," Katsuki patted his chest. Izuku heard how his hand thumped against it. "It's me, Deku. You're here with me." His voice was soft, softer than cotton. It felt like a short wave that brushed against Izuku's soul. "It's me, Kacchan."

Izuku then pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes, stopping his eyes from leaking more tears. He rubbed against them, frustrated. His mind was muddled and flitted everywhere. It was exacerbating.

A warm towel touched his cheek, and Izuku wiped one last time against the corners of his eyes. The steam from the warm towel caressed his cheek. It was comforting.

"Kacchan?" he asked numbly.

"Yes," he nodded. "It's me, Kacchan," he repeated. "You were poisoned, but now you're safe. The effects wore off, and now you're healed."

Izuku took the towel with a grateful look, a look he hoped that resembled a smile, and rested his face into the heat.

The room they resided in was dank and dark. Their only source of light wat the feeble flame of a fragrant three-wick candle. Under the guise of concern, Katsuki stayed in this room and waited for Izuku to gain consciousness. Honestly, he was concerned for this reckless man, but he was also concerned for the maids who volunteered to keep a keen, watchful eye of their beloved prince. However, Katsuki was distrustful. He was not confident if they could handle Izuku if he startled himself awake from the nightmares. Rather, they might worsen the situation.

Izuku steadied his breathing. He felt lighter, more in control. The imaginary copper taste he had in his mouth was gone.

"Where," he croaked and put his hand over his neck. His tongue and throat felt like parchment paper. His chest felt tight and sore.

Katsuki silently retrieved a glass of water he prepared beforehand at the night stand and offered it to Izuku. Though he understood that he was a jerk and often proclaimed as a world-renowned asshole, he knew when to lower the attitude a notch. After all, he witnessed Kirishima struggle with Kaminari's episodes, which happened more frequently and ended more disastrously. Izuku even disclosed about his nightmares with him during their first time sleeping on the same bed because he was concerned about the off-chance he would accidentally use his quirk during his slumber and attack Katsuki.

Watching Izuku drain his glass left him time to decide what say next.

His head gestured the door. "Do you want me to leave or stay?" he asked him.

Well, if Izuku said leave, he wouldn't be completely alone for long since a nurse was bound to enter the room to check his vitals, but it was the thought that counts, Kirishima once told him.

Izuku shook his head.

"Do you want me to come closer?"

Izuku nodded his head.

Katsuki sighed and grabbed the chair he was sitting on earlier. He scooched it closer until he was right at the bedside and slumped into it.

"Now what?"

Izuku's words were still slurred from the remnants of sleep, but it was comprehensible. "Where is your mother?" He was tried to recall the past events, but there were some gaps. "How is she?"

"She's fine," said Katsuki. "Thanks to you."

Katsuki rarely sung praise to him. Even the smallest pat on the back from him would have left Izuku bridled with euphoria. Izuku felt his cheeks flare up and made a poor attempt to reel in his modesty, but he was failing. To salvage this, he lowered his head to hide the small smile creeping onto his lips.

"It-It was no big deal," he stuttered. "My body moved on its own."

"I know," Katsuki said. "And it was stupid of you to do that."

Before he could savor it, the tickled feeling Izuku felt disappeared and withered and died. Instead, a roar of indignance overcame him.

"What?" he snapped.

Katsuki was digging himself a hole, and he doesn't realize that his biting words were the shovel.

" _You almost died_ ," he emphasized. "You can't just dive in there and get yourself caught in the crossfire."

Izuku scowled and crossed his arms in a huff. "Sure, I almost died, but that's not new."

After all, in his youth, assassination attempts happened every other month. Nobody saw him complaining.

"I would have saved your mother again if given the choice," he said.

Katsuki's eyes were set ablaze. He knew about Izuku's self-sacrificing nature, his lack of self-preservation, but they were no longer in the battlefield. This mentality would only wreck him in the end.

"Saving someone is different from acting foolishly," he said lowly.

"And usually, when someone saves your mom," Izuku jabbed back, "You say thank you instead of being an ass."

Izuku turned away as if he was slapped. He must have looked like a child, turning his head away like a privileged child, but he was irked, rattled by Katsuki's words.

In the spur of the moment, still not meeting Katsuki's eyes, he blurted out, "Would you grieve if I died?"

This fear he felt was different than the brand of fear he felt earlier as he suffocated to death, and yet it still took his breath away. He doesn't know why he needed Katsuki's validation, to test where their relationship stood. There was an inkling of truth in Mitsuki's words in their talk, but he doesn't know what to do. How can they talk about these issues when they could barely hold a shred of a normal conversation?

He hugged himself closer, his nails biting into his skin as he waited for Katsuki's response. He didn't have to wait for long.

"No," the blond told him, blunt and quick.

Even though he was honest, there were some truths better left unsaid.

Katsuki noticed the stiff form of Izuku's shoulders, his sudden sharp intake of breath. However, he doesn't notice the hidden disappointment that curdled in his gut, the sting of rejection in his chest.

"I would," Izuku replied quietly. "I would have grieved if you died."

Katsuki knew he would. After all, he was Midoriya Izuku, a man who would overturn monarchs and break every rule to preserve human life. He was an idiot who would go at great lengths to save one person, whether it would ruin himself in the process or not, with a huge smile on his face without an inch of regret.

Yes, Katsuki had eyes. He watched Izuku from time to time, and what he gathered was that Izuku was stronger than he looked. He wasn't a man who talked the talk; he was a man who walked the walk. For someone who was stupidly brave and stupidly heroic, he was stupidly weepy. Every time his fiancé proved him his worth, those moments reminded him of that day where they first met, their first encounter on the battlefield. Just like how Izuku was attracted to Katsuki's embodiment of victory and valor, Katsuki couldn't help but respect Izuku's compassion.

He tried to ignore it, but Katsuki was going to be a future king. He needed a suitable partner who would fill in those blanks, those jarring spaces where he lacked. Izuku just happened to be the best fit.

However, he doesn't tell Izuku this. That was not relevant to whether he would grieve or not.

Instead, he shrugged and said, "Well, that's your problem."

Katsuki was a man who hated coddling the weak and babying adults. He experienced enough of that back at home, where useless extras whimpered at his mother's feet and suitors threw themselves into his arms. His friends can testify that, but then he saw Izuku, downtrodden and teary. Unlike the extras, he kept his tears in check and reached acceptance.

"I see," Izuku said and swallowed everything like a pill.

Surprisingly, on Katuski's expense, Izuku didn't cry. Not one teardrop was shed.

"But that doesn't mean you have the right to die," Katsuki said afterwards. He said that like an afterthought.

"Huh?"

Katsuki clenched his jaw. He does not like spelling this out, but he guessed he would have to give Izuku a bone. Even though they were less than friends, they were at least on better terms than strangers. He leaned in closer. The dim lighting gave him an unearthly glow, coloring his eyes amber like whiskey.

"You're always loud," he told him, quiet and tense. "With the sudden silence, it would make anybody mad."

Izuku stared back with his voice caught in his throat. He doesn't know how to respond to that, but he wasn't given the chance since Katsuki kept talking.

"I won't forgive you if you died and left me as a widow. No way you are leaving me alone to fend off those vultures," he sneered.

His skin prickled at the thought of the nobles slobbering for the available throne. He does not dare think of how much Izuku's death would inconvenience him.

"I'll drag you back from hell myself if I have to," he pointed his thumb at himself. "Do you understand? We're stuck like this together forever. Death is not an option for you."

Izuku tightly gripped his sheets once Katsuki finished talking and finally released the breath he was holding. A powerful emotion bloomed in his chest before he could tame it. It was not due to the after-effects of the poison. His lips wobbled into a slight smile, but thankfully the room was dark enough to hide the evidence.

"I promise," Izuku whispered. "I promise I won't die."

Katsuki nodded, his heart more at ease now than earlier. Izuku's defeated expression rubbed him the wrong way. It made him feel weird. It felt as if a balloon inflated itself in his chest cavity and threated to burst out. He felt restricted, felt forced to make amends. Katsuki comforting another person, especially when that person was Midoriya Izuku, was a rarity. Katsuki took pride in himself as a rock, a man who could hold his own, but he was not meant to be an anchor, some sort of emotional clutch for his loved ones.

The balloon in his chest deflated. Katsuki felt the happiness radiating from his fiancé. He was not a touchy-feely person in general, but he managed to give Izuku a hesitant pat on the shoulder. He believed this was appropriate since he saw Kirishima patted Kaminari's shoulder plenty of times after a bad episode.

Giving himself a mental pat on the back, Katsuki was standing up to refill Izuku's cup, but then he caught whiff of Izuku's muttering. There he was, holding his chin as he rambled on and on about who knows what. He rolled his eyes. The nerd was unbelievable. In one moment, Izuku would spook him as he woke up from his nightmares, ready to fight whoever he greets first with his power-stocking quirk. Then the next moment he would return to normal, conjuring up a storm from his flapping mouth. This guy wouldn't give him a break.

Katsuki furrowed his brows as he heard him mutter under his breath, "Together forever, huh?"

The blond slammed back into his seat. The legs of the chair screeched as they slid against the wooden floor due to the force.

"Yeah?" he hunched over into Izuku's space. "Got a problem with that?"

Guilt settled into Izuku's features. His fingers toyed with a fray he found in his blankets.

"Your mother," Izuku casted his eyes downward. He knew he failed Katsuki. "She knows about us."

He was ready to shield himself from the upending explosion or the stream of curses that would spill from Katsuki's sailor mouth. He was ready for him to flip chairs, tables, heck, even his own bed to demonstrate the torrent of emotions swirling within him, to punish him for his carelessness. However, Katsuki was deathly silent, and that was much worse.

"How much does she know about us?" he asked, cool and collected.

Izuku gulped. "She was very…"

Tenacious? Persistent?

In truth, it was hard to describe that woman's intensity. One cannot simply compact everything that was Bakugou Mitsuki in a sentence. Therefore, he began to explain what transpired after Katsuki left him and his mother at the room, which included the deal, the hickey reveal, and most interestingly, her comments about Katsuki.

The man himself listened without interruption. There was an occasional grunt here and there, but he kept to himself with his hands folded in his lap.

When Izuku finished, he then asked, "Is she going to reveal the true nature of our relationship to the public?"

"No," he told Katsuki. "I don't think she will."

It was uncanny, seeing Katsuki quiet. "Good," he said after another minute.

"But about that deal…" Izuku transitioned.

"You're having second thoughts?" Katsuki questioned him with a lowly growl. "Because that would be counterproductive. Even if you leave me in a year or two, sooner or later I would have to face pressure to choose another partner."

Katsuki said this bitterly like black coffee dripping from his tone. The concept of a single king ruling for decades was a concept people were not able to grasp. The mere thought would blow their minds. It was a grueling truth, but his marriage with Izuku had to make do.

Izuku snapped his mouth shut. It never occurred to him that Katsuki would be forced to find another husband or wife.

"I did not think of that," he voiced out his thoughts.

"I figured," Katsuki scoffed. "If I was going to spend the rest of my life with someone, I rather it be you than a puppet of my court's choosing."

"That's fair," Izuku agreed, feeling quite flattered. "Though we should decrease the public displays of affection considering-"

"The hell?" Katsuki voiced his outrage. "There's nothing wrong with what we're doing. We don't have to change shit."

Izuku looked at him. He really looked at him. He might as well throw oil into the fire, or more correctly, a lifetime supply of gasoline into a conflagration. This was not just for his sake. This was for Katsuki's as well.

"Kacchan," Izuku took a deep breath and steeled himself. Mitsuki's words lingered in his mind, and he would never forgive himself if he never got answers. "Do you feel uncomfortable going through this fake relationship?"

His heart sunk when Katsuki's reaction was immediate. "Why is that important?" he scoffed. "Sure, we have to make sacrifices and do that romantic crap, but now we should focus on-"

"Don't."

Izuku bunched his shoulders and returned Katsuki's glare with a glare of his own. He interrupted him, yes, but he cannot turn a blind eye no longer. He wedged his way in and demanded some answers.

"You're changing the subject," he said.

Katsuki was taken aback. Never in a million years would he imagine Izuku talking back to him like this, but he got over his initial shock quickly. He was _fine_. All those assumptions were just garbage his mother sold to Izuku, and the idiot was dumb enough to buy it. He was about to tell Izuku to put a sock in it and discuss _actual_ problems, not junk he overheard from a secondary source, but then the nerd shifted his position to face him. Izuku shucked off his blankets and grasped his hands.

Katsuki tried to pull them back, but Izuku's scarred hands would not budge. Another infuriating discovery he made was that Izuku may or may not have used his quirk to keep him there. Screw him being a patient. Katsuki was going to willingly release his quirk until the nerd unhanded him, but then Izuku pressed his forehead against his.

"Back then, you told me," he said with a rasp, "You told me you were not a liar. That this relationship," he waved between them, his fingertips brushing against their chests, "Was the only exception."

The heat from his face. The puffs of air from his nostrils. The determination from his eyes. Izuku always got under Katsuki's skin. The green-haired man tightened his grip, desperate and searching. A shot a pain zinged through Katsuki's nerves from the pinch, but he ignored it and returned Izuku's gaze.

"Are you going to lie to me now?" Izuku challenged. "Are you going to go back on your word?"

The last bit sounded either like a question or a plea. Perhaps it was both.

A flurry of emotions, ones Katsuki wished that he would never recover, consumed him. They were the same emotions he felt when Kaminari and Kirishima presented him a whore at his military tent, persuading him that he needed to let off some steam. They were the same emotions he felt when bile rose in his throat as he pushed them all, both men and women, away from his skin, away from his touch. They were the same emotions he felt as the nobles at the socials he attended inquired his tastes, pandered him to give their daughters a chance in bed.

He was no stranger to the accompanying confusion as a battle brewed between his heart and mind. These people were beautiful. These people were attractive. And yet, _he_ was not attracted to _them_.

He hated this feeling. He hated it because he felt left out, isolated. The feeling strengthened as his friends consoled him, comforting him with words he didn't want to hear. He bit his tongue as they assured him that he would find that special someone, the perfect person meant for him. He withheld himself because he doesn't want to break their expectations.

Instead, he tried to believe in their words. Instead, he tried to conform to those ideals. After all, there was no harm in playing pretend. They were at war, and Katsuki's priority was unity in the army. He would just have to act, to play the part that he was interested, too, though at a lesser degree. Nobody would be the wiser. Nobody would question who Katsuki fucked, especially now when he was about to be wedded to Midoriya Izuku.

To revisit these thoughts made him feel vulnerable, and Katsuki learned from long ago that vulnerability meant weakness. Exposing these thoughts to Izuku frightened him to his core and gave him the urge to hightail it out of here. After all, how could he do it? Izuku was basically asking him to rip himself apart at the seams and lay himself bare. Him. Bakugou Katsuki. How absurd.

However, he was not a liar, and today was not the day he would become one. The words were on the tip of his tongue. His inner turmoil was obvious, but Katsuki pushed forth the effort. If Izuku was strong enough to brave his mother and an assassination attempt, then he was strong enough to utter a sentence.

Even though his only obstacle was himself, Katsuki knew he would prevail because that was who he was. A winner. A victor. A person who strove to do better.

"I don't know," he revealed.

He gritted his teeth and turned red in shame. It sounded stupid, now that he said it aloud, but Izuku wanted the truth. Well, he got his damn truth.

Inside, he was an absolute mess. Well, humans were messy by principle, but this was different. To answer Izuku's questions, his emotions were like a conglomerate that resisted to organize themselves.

Still, it doesn't change how stupid he sounded.

Mercifully, Izuku gave Katsuki some breathing space and detached himself.

"You don't know…" Izuku repeated after him with a weird look in his face.

Sparks flashed in Katsuki's hands. He was warmed up to explode a certain freckled face.

"Say it again, I dare you," he hissed while his eyebrow twitched. "I'll make sure you remember it next time."

His threat led to Izuku waving his hands in the air and making crossed out signs to assuage Katsuki's anger.

"I'm not making fun of you, I swear!" Izuku pleaded and clapped his hands in apology.

"It sure as hell seemed that way," he retorted. Another small explosion went off.

Izuku flinched, but he was not discouraged.

"I'm not," he said.

Katsuki stretched his fingers. His hands were sweaty and sticky, and Katuski was dying to get rid of the sweat in the form of his quirk. Izuku got his answer, and yet he continued to carry on with this discussion, which led Katsuki to ask him this.

"Why is this so important to you, huh? It's not like it changes anything from our shitty situation."

Izuku beg to differ. "We're stuck like this together forever," he threw Katsuki's words back at him. "Kacchan," he said, "I don't want us to grow old and hate each other for the rest of our lives."

Sure, call him optimistic. Call him naïve. Go ahead and sue him to have a hopeful mind. Just get in line behind the other people who wanted him dead.

"I don't want us to turn bitter, waiting for death to finally separate us," he said with his voice growing in volume. "I just," he paused, his words caught in his throat as he caught Katuski watching him attentively, "I want us to grow old as friends."

Friendship seemed far and unattainable, but in the end, it was not impossible.

"I want us to be friends who can look back at this and joke and think how silly this whole arrangement was."

He envisioned them as side-by-side, reigning the kingdom while preserving the peace, and sharing a cup of tea and pastries as they relived their youth. It was a simple dream, but it was a dream far greater than what he had in the past.

He wondered if he was asking too much. Maybe he was overreaching to hope for a companion in Katsuki.

"Less kissing."

Izuku blinked. He was done speaking, so whoever said that was not him.

"Also, let's tone down the sex-related antics."

The person who was speaking was Katsuki. Speaking of which, he was snapping his fingers in front of his face to grab his attention.

"Shitty Deku," Katsuki grumbled. "Talking like some goddamn motivational speaker, and then leave me hanging."

Next time he snapped, he produced an explosion on Izuku's left side, rendering him out of his daze, which left him covering his left ear with a pitiful whine. Too bad. Katsuki does not like repeating himself, so he had to say it all in one go.

"Listen up Deku because I am only going to say this once."

Relinquishing his feelings left an acrid taste on his tongue. He knew for certain he would never get used to this.

"I'll kill you if you make fun of me for this, but I still don't know where my feelings…"

He made a pinched face when he said that.

"… Lie," he finished. "So I guess I gotta figure that out like a loser, but don't treat me any different because that is a one-way ticket to your grave. Understand?"

Izuku nodded. That was fair.

"But for a start, I don't like it when we kiss on the lips," he said with a strained grimace. "I could tolerate kisses on the cheek, I guess, since we can't exactly stop _everything,_ or it would be too suspicious."

So far, so good.

"Can I make a suggestion?" Izuku asked while raising his hand as if he was a student from his tutoring days.

"Sure, hit me up."

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's get rid of the hickeys and scheduled intercourse sessions?"

"God, yes," Katsuki groaned, "I thought you'll never ask."

From there, once they got into the meat of it, they were changing for the better. Izuku promised to write this down in his notebook for reference, but for now, they continued making changes, ranging from what type of public affection was acceptable to Katsuki to what made him pissed off the most. At one point, Katsuki also reminded Izuku to put in his feedback and input on what raised his hackles as well. After all, this was not only about Katsuki. This was for both of them.

They may or may not have gotten a laugh out of this. They may or may not have strengthened their bond from this revised agreement, but at the end of the day, they talked. They found a common thread that connected them together again. It's funny, how life works in mysterious ways and throws unsuspecting curve balls. Over a year ago, they were enemies. Nine months ago, they were engaged. Today, they are friends.

And in two weeks, they would be wed.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you for your support. They really encouraged me to finish this chapter. Enjoy.**

"His name is Iguchi Shuichi, but he prefers to be called Spinner."

Izuku listened to the detective with rapt attention as they went over the details of the assassination attempt that took place recently. Katsuki sat alongside him and wore a scowl since they were involved with the incident. The queen was already informed of her assailant due to her departure time closing in. The two were stuck in a stuffy room and received the intel that the police and detectives scrounge up in a span of 24 hours. It was work that involved blood, sweat, and tears. As a reward, they remarkably came across some incriminating evidence. This man was going to be locked up for a discernible amount of time, but for sure it would be lengthy.

More evidence was obviously needed since the incident was so fresh, but as of now, the detective debriefed them of their current findings.

"His methods were similar to the methods the war criminal Stain, also known as Akaguro Chizome, used," the detective mentioned as they flipped through the case papers. "Though it is still early to conclude this, I believe that this was an isolated incident."

After some explanations regarding the weapons and the substances included with the criminal, the detective excused themselves and cleaned up the documents that were strewn all over the table. Katsuki glanced at Izuku to gauge his reaction, but the man was quiet throughout the whole exchange. Izuku made no move to leave.

Katsuki chose that exact moment to nudge him out of his trance and grasped his attention.

"What?" Katsuki clicked his tongue. "You knew that shit stain?"

His asinine comment brought a snicker from Izuku. It was a stroke of immaturity and genius on Katsuki's part to think of that insult.

"I…"

He clamped his mouth shut. He was not confident if he had clearance to divulge these details. On the other hand, this was Katsuki, one of the most trustworthy people he had ever met, and that spoke volumes since they've known each other for less than a year.

He twiddled his thumbs as he said, "Stain was a man with ideals. Ambitions."

In addition, he owned charisma and charm. He strung words and weaved them like silk, and back then in a time of war and strife, that could have been his deadliest weapon.

"He was a lowly foot soldier who gained more and more traction over the years. His views on the knights and their corrupted system were popular. His influence was great, and they ignited low-scale revolts and protests."

Izuku agreed that a call for reform was necessary. Being out in the field opened his eyes, helped him recognize what differentiated a knight by name and essence. Even up to this day he struggled to manage that reform. However, Stain's interference into the war effort dealt a devastating blow. It cost lives. The price was not worth the cause, especially when there wasn't a solid agenda in the first place, and Izuku cannot forgive him for that.

"The organization was flawed at best, which is why his group was easily squashed," Izuku continued. "Though it seems that someone slipped through the cracks."

"So that's why I never heard of him," said Katsuki. "Sounds like a domestic issue."

Izuku nodded. On the bright side, Iguchi was simply there to carry out the assassination out of malice against the throne. There was no ringleader behind his actions, and for that, Izuku was grateful. Stain was dead. All for one was dead. Darkness was put on hold. Izuku only wanted to sustain this peace for a bit longer.

"You done overthinking there?" Katsuki eyed him and crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's go."

"Where?"

Katsuki rolled his eyes. He had to hand it to the nerd. For a man who collected planners, calendars, and sticky notes, the man hardly utilized them correctly. Sometimes he wondered why the man bought these materials if they were going to collect dust or stay forgotten. Hiring a man to remind him of important events sounded like a better use of their money.

"My mother is leaving in less than an hour," Katsuki drawled. "Now, based on the look on your face, it shows that you forgot, but if we make haste now we can-"

A blast of wind shot by him. The pressure was so immense that it pushed Katsuki against the wall.

"The fuck."

He closed his eyes when he felt Izuku surge past him. When he reopened his eyes, he was alone. Papers were scattered all over the ground. Chairs were distributed haphazardly. Katsuki sighed.

"Damn him," he huffed and knelt to the ground as he reorganized everything.

Izuku dashed through the halls like a mad man. The corridors were mostly empty. His traitorous mind told him that the corridors were empty because many wanted to bid the queen farewell, but he shooed away that inner voice. He does not want any more fodder to add to his guilt.

Katsuki must have been a bigger influence than he thought because his mind helpfully provided a better alternative than running like a track star down this maze of a castle. He impulsively took his body to the closest window.

"Fuck this," he said under his breath and leapt out.

Midair, he aimed at the opposite direction he was going for and flicked his fingers. A year ago, he would have destroyed his finger into smithereens, but nowadays, he held a more dexterous handle on his quirk. However, he was not a seasoned veteran where manipulating One for All was concerned, which is why he needed a couple more flicks before he landed at his destination.

Then he saw the queen, adorned in iridescent colors and a princess seam dress that hugged her in all the right places. Her attire was befitting for a woman with a presence like hers. Her pearls layered around her neck. Her diamond-studded earrings glistened under the sunlight. The Bakugou family was gifted with natural beauty, and it was moments like these where Izuku forgot about their radiance and ethereal nature.

"Izuku-kun," the queen greeted him, "You're here."

He coughed into his hand to quit his gawking. "Um, yes," he answered awkwardly. "I apologize, Your Highness, for my tardiness…"

The queen tilted her head and appeared to be looking over his shoulder. "And where is my son?"

Izuku whipped his head around and paled.

"Crap," he muttered under his breath. He was so preoccupied with the queen, he forgot to drag his future husband with him. Now Katsuki was left eating his dust.

"Oh, uh," he stammered. "Well… Kacchan is…"

Great. Here he was, making a complete fool of himself in front of the queen. What else is new?

She graciously entrusted her son to him, albeit reluctantly, and yet this was going to be his lasting impression on her, abandoning her son like a finished bowl of katsudon. To say that he was embarrassed was an understatement.

"He's… not here," he winced. "But! He's right behind me." He hopes. He really, really hopes.

Instead of skinning him alive or dropping him into the dark depths of the ocean, Queen Mitsuki seemed rather pleased.

"Good," she said.

"Good?"

The queen proceeded to lower herself and kneeled in front of him. Flustered, Izuku stepped back, slack-jawed. His hands hovered above her, unsure of what to do. This was no place for a queen to kneel. Mud and dirt sullied her dress, but a stain on her dress was the least of her worries. She would rather focus on the stain of her debt.

"Before my son arrives," she lifted her head, poised and refined, "I would like to formally apologize for my behavior in the past."

Izuku stared into those red pools. They were so reminiscent of Katsuki that he wondered if there would come a day where that bull-headed man could apologize to him like this. Although there were crowds waiting to bid the queen farewell, Izuku knew better than to call this a publicity stunt. No, this was genuine, for a queen like Mitsuki does not give a fuck if this apology painted her as some submissive piece of shit bowing her head down to some crowned mollusk. This was the real deal, and a monarch like Queen Mitsuki does not apologize without reason. There were photographic flashes and murmurs of gossip among the people, but she was not bothered by such scrutiny.

"You saved my life, and for that I am forever grateful." She no longer eyed him with scorn. "Thank you," she said, no louder than a whisper. "The Bakugou family is known to repay our debts two-fold."

Her hands gripped his forearms tight and hauled herself from the ground. She then moved forward to embrace him with a fierce hug, one that rivaled all his mother's hugs combined. It was bearish and clumsy, but it was a motherly hug nonetheless. He must have been deprived of a motherly touch for too long, for it was the kindest and longest hug he had ever received in a while. If he stayed in this woman's arms for a minute longer, his mind would have played tricks on him and made him smell the sweet, warm scent of cinnamon and honey. This hug was not forced or fake like the ones he shared with Katsuki. It was authentic and real, and he felt compelled to cry over this woman's shoulders if he should ever part. He had forgotten the remedies of a simple hug from a companion. So, maybe someday. Just someday. He would gain the courage to ask that man for a hug.

"I regret many decisions in my life," Queen Mitsuki said with one last squeeze. "So please… Please don't give me a reason to regret trusting you."

Izuku returned her embrace with the same amount of ardor. He patted her hair and clenched his eyes.

"You won't..." he told her. "But also... I forgive you," he whispered back, not because he needed to forgive but to help lessen the weight on this woman's shoulders.

The queen of Nethereal was a woman with many burdens, and though he cannot fathom the number of sins she committed, he understood that this woman was ready to repent and to slip into the next chapter of her life.

Queen Mitsuki lifted her eyes and saw her son trudging forward with a baffled expression. He stood a few meters away, uncertain if he should approach and interrupt this odd scene. The woman rolled her eyes, exasperated. Sometimes her kid was plain daft. It was as if he never witnessed a hug in his life.

"What are you doing there, standing like a light pole?" She joked and waved him in closer. "Come here and say goodbye to your mother, you brat."

Izuku looked behind his shoulder and noticed Katsuki, who gave his mother a reproachful look. He sighed. He had forgotten that there was another person with a burden on his shoulders, but unfortunately, this burden was not so easily rectified by a mere word of forgiveness. However, Katsuki was not alone in this burden for he had Izuku by his side, and in the far future, Izuku was still awestruck that Katsuki chose to share it with him.

Izuku peeled himself away from the queen's embrace and sidestepped out of the way, but Katsuki was still motionless despite the given space. Izuku nervously glanced at him.

"Kacchan," he urged him quietly.

Katsuki clenched his fists and straightened his jaw. His mother was an infallible woman who made mistakes. She was the one who tore open the rift in their relationship and pushed him into the throes of war before he barely reached puberty. She was the one who treated him harsher than any soldier and pushed him harder than any general. She was the one who assumed everything and anything about him even though she never thought to ask for his opinion in the first place.

His mother was human, and like all humans, they made mistakes. And like a fool, Katsuki missed her deeply. Their turbulent relationship was one that cannot be solved overnight. Yet, when Izuku looked at him like this, brimming with overflowing hope, Katsuki decided to be the bigger man to not lose face. He sized himself up and marched to his mother's front.

"Bye old hag," he said gruffly.

The sunlight kissed his skin. The breeze ruffled his bangs. Queen Mitsuki stood there, starstruck, and held her breath. Then her face went laxer, and from there, she had never looked so peaceful. She extended her hand and petted against her son's unruly mop of hair. She let out a light chuckle, and during the duration of the grooming process, she seemed younger, livelier, as if the wrinkles near her eyes and cheeks disappeared in that short time span.

"Your face," she said with a grin. "It's more relaxed."

"Yeah, and it seems like yours grew dark spots," her son shot back.

Typically, there would be divine retribution waiting at his doorstep, but there was nothing that could possibly sour his mother's mood at this moment. The woman gave Izuku a cursory glance with discretion.

"I wonder if it's him," she said offhandedly.

Katsuki made a dissenting noise from the back of his throat.

"Or maybe…"

A glaze settled over her eyes as she caressed her son's cheek. Already she missed him, and it felt too soon to leave. She was going to attend the wedding, but their interactions would be limited. Even so, she held no complaints. Her son was happier now. This she could tell.

"Or maybe this is what you look like when you finally found some peace."

* * *

Two weeks flew by so fast. Katsuki and Izuku were busier than ever. On the day before the actual wedding, their guests and visitors swarmed the castle, claiming their rooms and preparing for the future festivities. Izuku was overwhelmed by the magnitude, and it finally occurred to him that tomorrow he was going to be a husband. Pre-wedding jitters was not the appropriate word he would use to describe this feeling. Although he no longer felt strapped or chained to these obligations, he still felt an inkling of dread.

Izuku stared at his hands. His right arm was scarred and deformed beyond repair. Doctors told him it was a miracle that his arm wasn't paralyzed despite its crude state. Portions of his hand were misshapen and borderline grotesque, but they were proof that he saved someone, that he made a difference in the war effort. Some of them were from his younger years, back when he was tortured and beaten down for being his father's son, but the majority of them came from the brunt of this war. He never hid his scars behind a pair of gloves and long-sleeved shirts because they defined him. He was proud of them.

Then Izuku's eyes focused on his left hand. At the back of his wrist was a branch that trailed towards his hand until the tip rested on his ring finger. The base of the branch was naked, but there were little florets bunched above the base. As his eyes trailed upwards, cherry blossom buds, swelled pink to perfection, became more pronounced and defined. Below his knuckles, the florets began to extend until they elongated into their individual positions, and finally, the area around his ring finger was surrounded by pink sakura flowers in full bloom, puffed and parted for the beholder. They were stunning and brilliant. Izuku left the tattoo artist a generous tip for creating such a beautiful masterpiece. This was definitely an improvement from the gaudy sugar skulls Katsuki wanted in the first stages of their discussion. Looking at his hands again, he liked the stark contrast between them. The beauty collided against the unattractive.

Immediately after the queen's departure, Izuku pressed for Katsuki to review over possible ring tattoos, or at least, a decent idea. Time was ticking, and after hours of pulling out references, sketching, and revising, they managed to compromise on cherry blossoms. This was not an extravagant design per se, but it had its charm. Better this than a tacky one like etching their names in calligraphy around their finger. God, that would be horrid.

Besides, this was nice, Izuku surmised, because this was symbolic of their growth, both as individuals and their relationship. From the beginning, the two barely had a foundation to build upon, but with the spark of their desire to create a better, peaceful world, it became their starting line. It was only a matter of time until their strained alliance blossomed into a cordial sort of friendship, one Izuku hoped to foster and nurture until it strengthened into an unbreakable bond.

He supposed Katsuki liked the cherry blossoms, too, since he didn't outright reject the idea.

"Hey nerd, stop staring at it. It's creepy." Ah, speak of the devil.

Izuku lowered his hands, abashed, and buried them under his thighs.

"Stop wasting time," Katsuki huffed and rolled his neck. "Hurry up, so then we can finish this up quickly."

Today the blond wore his slim black tank top, the one that accentuated his shoulder and back muscles, and a pair of muted gray shorts. He leaned forward and pulled Izuku up, using the hand with the tattoo that matched Izuku's.

Since tomorrow was the day of their long-awaited wedding, it was quite reasonable for Katsuki to drag Izuku from the comfort of his bed and demanded that they rehearse their married couple dance for the reception. They don't need an astute observer to point out that Izuku was not a gifted dancer. There were copious amounts of effort involved in his part. He was improving his flexibility in increments. His footwork was also reaching at a level where Mina, Katsuki's close friend who volunteered to teach them the waltz, even commented that it was fair nowadays. That was the best thing Izuku had ever heard in his short-lived dancing career because months ago, when they began to practice for this dance, Mina called him a lost cause and dubbed him as a graceless swan who couldn't even waddle.

One observation Izuku made about Katsuki throughout these rehearsals was his standards for physical proximity. He thought it was odd that Katsuki rarely overreacted during their practice, which could last for hours, but would lash out at the briefest intimate touch of their lips. Izuku had come to the revelation that unless there was a practical application for their closeness, no matter how sexually charged the position may be, Katsuki took it in stride without batting an eye. His perception of the entire situation was work, and work was a language Katsuki understood.

One example was the current way Katsuki placed his hand on his shoulder blade while holding Izuku's hand with the other with the utmost care and professionalism. Their backs were straight, and their eyes were front and center. Izuku felt heat on his face, but he dismissed it with a mental wave. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. It was not as if they were performing the tango where they would bend their bodies at impossible angles and close the distance between their faces until a passerby would deem it sexy and lewd.

However, the closeness must have been getting to Izuku's head because Katsuki relaxed his posture and noted, "You're tense."

Well, of course Izuku was tense. Even though they were not flushed against each other, Izuku was unprepared for the way Katsuki presented himself during this rehearsal. He was no stranger to Katsuki's outbursts and his demeaning jabs over his untalented legs, but he was different this rehearsal. He was calmer, more patient. What happened to the man who compared him to a newborn fawn who couldn't stand upright?

"The hell?" Katsuki said as he patted his back to check.

Izuku felt a zing up his spine.

"Did you stretch enough?" he sighed with annoyance. "Do we have to do that again?"

"No!" Izuku laughed nervously. "There's no need to stretch," he said as his voice went a pitch higher.

Today's fanservice of the week were the stretches. Maids patrolled near the ballroom frequently to catch some sneak peeks of the boys in compromising positions. They decided to do some partner-assisted exercises to rouse more gossip and cannon fodder, and as consequence, there was a lot of touching.

At least Katsuki seemed more comfortable in Izuku's presence after their last talk. He was more compliant with the skin-on-skin contact these days. Izuku guessed it was one of the benefits of being considered a friend in his book. Again, Katsuki was unaffected by the frequent physical contact, and though Izuku wanted to be the same, he was not the type to be unaffected by anything. Sure, the purpose of these stretches was to warm up and help them with their range of motion, but inane thoughts kept pouring into his mind.

"Then relax," Katsuki huffed.

Izuku progressively got more comfortable, but there were times where he still stumbled and tripped. His legs were like jelly as if they had an agenda to ruin him. His mistakes brought back flashbacks.

"One-two-three, one-two-three…" Katsuki counted as they swayed across the room.

He led him while occasionally adjusting his hips, the curve of his arm, or the posture of his neck. After all, it has been days since they last practiced because of the turbulent events that transpired this month. Izuku's movements were chunky at first, but muscle memory helped him accommodate as time went on.

"Eyes on me," Katsuki told him, and though Izuku wished that a hole would appear beneath him and swallow him whole, he understood that he couldn't hide his gaze any longer.

Staring at the tiles throughout the dance was mediocre and unacceptable. Izuku was in for the ride, but eventually he remembered the steps, the familiar rhythm of this dance. Once he got the gist of it, Katsuki trusted him enough to switch roles halfway through the rehearsal. Of course, not without a fair warning.

"Step on my toes one more time," his voice a low timbre, "And I'll revoke your privileges to lead this dance, got it?"

Izuku nodded and gulped. He got it.

Thirty minutes became an hour, and then an hour became two. Before Izuku and Katsuki realized it, they were engrossed with the music and the movement. They didn't spend the entire time waltzing, but Katsuki gave Izuku pointers on other forms of dance as well, such as jazz and swing dance. Izuku would have called him a talented asshole, but then he was reminded that Katsuki had Mina to tutor him.

Sometimes dancing felt like a chore to him, or at least, a leisurely pastime for people Izuku doesn't associate with because back at home, there was never time to dance and enjoy the goodness of life. Yet, here he was, dancing around the room, smiling and carefree.

Dancing was not his strong suit, but with Katsuki's guidance, he could see the appeal. And though he didn't say it aloud, a small voice inside of him also admitted that with Katsuki, dancing felt a bit more bearable.

* * *

As Izuku wiped off the sweat on his forehead with a spare towel, Katsuki said, "Okay, we should be able to pull off this dance."

"Great," Izuku responded tiredly.

He wasn't completely sore, but he would be lying if he said he didn't feel an ache here and there.

Then Katsuki commented, out of the blue, "I don't want think about what would happen if we didn't have Mina train you."

"I would flop around like a fish," Izuku deadpanned.

"Yeah," Katsuki made an amused sound. "At least we won't have a repeat of the last time you stepped on my toe."

He was referring to the incident where Izuku accidentally used One for All on his foot, which landed him a one-way ticket to the ER.

Izuku sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry for that."

"It's fine," Katsuki dismissed as he cleaned up.

Though Izuku wanted to linger around a while longer and chat, he had an appointment to attend to and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder to make his exit.

"Hold up," Katsuki blocked the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked him as he crossed his arms.

Discreet, Izuku reminded himself. He had to be discreet. Honestly, he was a terrible fibber, and Katsuki would sniff it a mile away. He had to offer him a half truth.

"I'm going to visit Hatsume Mei," he replied with an impassive voice. He hoped he didn't sound too suspicious. "I promised her that I would sign some documents to give her some leeway to talk to some members of the tech committee. The process to receive a substantial grant was taking too long for her, and the authorization process for her inventions was even longer."

In exchange for his signature, Izuku supplied in his mind, Hatsume would finish his commission. Katsuki gave him a skeptical look. He was a shrewd man with a keen eye. However, he gave Izuku the benefit of the doubt. After all, the scientist with a knack for machines was not a danger to the kingdom. She simply found pleasure in innovation.

Without further ado, he stepped aside as Izuku passed by him and headed towards the inventor's workshop. Katsuki bided his time reviewing the wedding preparations for their big day, but it was a daunting task. He wished he had the foresight to tell Izuku to meet him at the library when he was done, but now they had no means of communication unless he wanted to bother a servant to go on a wild goose chase.

He mindlessly flipped through the guest list, his eyes roaming through the names at lightning speed. There was a pang of nervousness at the sight of Izuku's parents at the top of the list. He knew he wasn't a golden boy to their standards, but surprisingly their blessings were much easier to receive compared to his mother.

At least they had a wedding planner to finish the last minute touches. This was getting overwhelming. He was perfect, but he wasn't _that_ perfect.

Then he reached the list that contained Izuku's closest friends, and there was one name that churned his stomach even more. It was times like these he wished he paid attention to Izuku's surroundings rather than the man himself. He wondered if she recognized him. He wondered if she was virulent enough to slander his name in front of his future husband, and worst of all, she was entitled to do so. It was her right.

A young woman with shoulder-length chestnut hair beamed back at him. Her cheeks were rosy and pink, the image of innocence and divine, but Katsuki knew that looks can be deceiving. He knew that underneath her cheery disposition was a determined warrior who demanded respect and nothing less.

"Uraraka Ochako," he said and flipped past that list.

There was no point in dwelling over the what-ifs and the consequences of her presence tomorrow. He is not going to be a worrywart like Izuku, and really, there was nothing to be done. She was invited. She was coming, and for tomorrow, he'll take whatever shit thrown his way.

* * *

Night fell, and the two were in bed. Yet, Izuku was restless. He supposed it was wedding jitters, but he never heard of couples who felt an accompanying sense of dread. There was no reason to fret. They went over the procedure. They agreed on a small peck on the lips after their vows. This wedding should be a cinch. There was no good cause to be this anxious.

"Deku."

Izuku stilled. Oh dear, was he muttering again? Did he wake Katsuki up?

Katsuki's voice was like a low rumble, one akin to the hum of an engine. However, he sounded agitated, as if he couldn't drift off as well.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

Izuku bit his lower lip. "No," he said dejectedly.

Their backs were still turned away from each other.

"Me either."

A pregnant pause filled the room, the type where only the sound of crickets and rustled leaves from their opened window could be heard. Then Katsuki kicked off his covers and poked Izuku's shin with his toes.

"Hey, let's spar."

Izuku's head slipped from his blankets, and he stared at Katsuki incredulously.

"Now?"

"Yeah."

The responsible decision was to deny his proposal, lay back in bed, and struggle to sleep. The irresponsible decision was to take his offer, beat the crap out of each other, risking themselves for bruises and scrapes, and earn a good night's rest.

Izuku looked at Katsuki straight in the eye.

"I'm in."


	9. Chapter 9

Katsuki remembers. Even with the erosion of time and his perception of the events that took place, he remembers. When he remembers a name, they hold significance, importance. They were the ones who made an impression on him, and unsurprisingly, these were the people he met at the battlefield, whether they remembered him or not.

Toshinori Yagi… Midoriya Izuku… Uraraka Ochako… Those were only a handful of names he listed.

Uraraka was a memorable woman, fierce and protective, for she truly believed in her cause. Her role in the war was priceless. Even up to this day, thousands, the ones who survived and lived to tell the tale, continued to thank her for her service. Her bravery was one many envied. Her quirk was invaluable for rescue. With it, she would enter the fray and touch as many victims as her limitations would allow it. From there medical personnel would rush into the scene to gather as many as possible into a gurney and flee them to the nearest medical tent.

Katsuki had his orders. It was a coincidence that he came across her.

He doesn't remember the exact time frame. Was it a year ago? Was it two?

All he could recall was the moment he explosively entered the fight, guns blazing with a devil may cry grin. He always smiled no matter the circumstances because that was how he instilled fear into the enemies' hearts. People called him a demon for that. Well, they were not wrong.

Uraraka saw him as he crackled explosions from his palms. She felt the pit of her stomach drop and knew that at this rate, they were going to die. Her response team consisted of people who only knew how to rescue and defend with limited offensive ability. Their quirks were not meant for combat, which is why they chose this area of expertise.

She reached a split-second decision. Everyone was going to live- everyone, except for her.

"Go!" she urged her team and sprinted in the opposite direction, heading towards the soldier with the explosion quirk.

As she sprinted to her death, she continued tapping more wounded soldiers in hopes of her team picking them up as they retreat. She doesn't know how much time she can buy for them. She doesn't know how much longer she can distract this volatile man.

When Katsuki aimed his palms, ready to ignite and blow her out of the way, she pressed her fingertips against each other.

"Release!"

Without a moment to spare, she subsequently reactivated her quirk and made herself weightless. She floated to the sky, missing the center of impact by a hair's breadth, but the explosion itself knocked her off her trajectory.

Katsuki smirked, slightly impressed by her quick wit, but those thoughts were futile. He was not allowed to let her go unscathed. No survivors. Period.

However, before he could blow her to bits, she postured herself into an all-too-familiar stance once she reached the ground. His blood turned cold.

Knees bent, and fists raised, she said, without a quiver in her lips, "I issue a challenge."

His blood _boiled_.

A barrage of explosions erupted from his palms once again, and he took satisfaction as he watched her flinch in fear.

"You think you have the right to challenge me?" Katsuki taunted as he stomped towards her trembling form. "You? The traitor," he spat into the ground, "The traitor who sided with the enemy?"

"We are only enemies to ourselves," she replied cryptically. "But know this," she said with eyes brimming with determination, "I side with no one."

Instead, there was one man she chose to follow, for he made her realize the errors of this war and the faults in its cause. She entrusted Midoriya Izuku with her life, and she will gladly lay down her life to save their people, regardless of which kingdom they fought for.

"Stop speaking in riddles," Katsuki growled. "Tell me who you're working for, and I might even spare your life."

"Then accept my challenge," she told him.

Her plan was an impromptu one and practically suicidal. Her team were tiny dots at the horizon, and for that, she was relieved. However, though they had a good running start, she doesn't want to take any chances.

"Fine," said Katsuki.

He imitated her stance and added, "On one condition."

"What is it?"

"We use our quirks."

Uraraka hesitated.

She weighed her options. "If I win, you won't chase after them."

If she won, then Katsuki would be dead. She would run free. Her team would run free.

"If you lose," Katsuki countered, "Then I can do whatever the hell I want."

Lives were at stake. She would hold herself accountable if more died. She cannot lose.

Uraraka took a shuddered breath.

"Think like a man of action," she recited the code, her heart thundering in her chest.

Usually she would guard her face, but this was a battle of quirks. Even shielding her face would be futile against Katsuki's explosions.

"Act like a man of thought," Katsuki grinned maniacally and spurted forward.

He was deft with his feet and used his explosions to propel himself even faster than her calculations. He went right up to her face, palms alight, ready to scorch the skin off her face until Uraraka bent backwards and dodged his frontal attack. In mid-air, Katsuki aimed his right arm to the sky. He was going to release another explosion to slam into her body, but she strengthened her core and kicked upward, forcing him to move out of the way, which ultimately distanced him from her.

Uraraka crouched down and ran towards him. Katsuki twitched his fingers, felt his palms slick with sweat, and blasted at her direction. By luck, she dodged unscathed. Uraraka prolonged the duration of the fight by running and dodging while also leading them in the opposite direction. However, Katsuki was a tenacious fighter. Both knew the outcome. Her stamina would not last for long.

Debris was everywhere and clouded his vision. He clicked his tongue and stood still as his eyes roamed around. He was foolish. Even though he was experienced, he shouldn't have been caught up in the momentum of the fight like a goddamn rookie. By forgetting to minimize his quirk usage, he had set up the perfect opportunity for her to launch a surprise attack.

Women were fearsome warriors. Katsuki knew that, for he learned from the best – his mother. She was no delicate flower. She was at the peak of the hierarchy for a reason. Katsuki knew better than to underestimate his opponent because if he did, his mother would have uprooted him from his grave and slaughtered him herself.

He sensed a presence behind him.

He whipped around and lunged forward, his hand reaching for the shadow in front of him. His instincts screamed for him to go back, and he realized his mistake as he grabbed onto fabric without a human attached to it.

"Shit."

Once he let out the expletive, he turned around to face a huge ass boulder coming straight for him. She must have used her quirk to fling it at him. Without a second thought, he obliterated it, creating even more debris than before, and in chess terms, that would have been Uraraka's checkmate. The smoke parted, and there she loomed over him with a dagger in her hand.

In theory, she would have won if she plunged it into his neck. It would have been instant death. She would have survived. However, life was cruel and unfair, and her luck ran out as Katsuki reflexively used his arm to block and allowed her to stab it. Without anywhere to take cover, Katsuki hit his target.

 _Boom._

A wretched scream ripped from the woman's lips as she crashed into the ground and rolled to a stop. She wheezed in pain as she held onto her charred side with blood and skin coating her uniform. A crippled cry escaped her as tears stained her cheeks. She pounded the ground, frustration oozing from her debilitated form. She lost.

Katsuki wore a somber frown as he pulled out the dagger in his arm. It was only a flesh wound, and she didn't stab a vital spot. This victory does not bolster his pride. She was a worthy opponent, but it was an absolute shame that she had to die by his hands instead of cultivating her skills for the future. It was like nipping potential in the bud. Even though she was untrained, she maneuvered herself, adapted to her surroundings, and fought tooth and nail. He doesn't want to kill her, but he must. Those were his orders.

"Yield or die?" he asked.

"I was born and raised in Nethereal. You know my answer," she spat.

A person with honor and dignity will always choose death.

Her breaths were heavy. She sounded like a deflated chew toy when she spoke. "A deal is a deal," she said in a feeble voice. "A loss is a loss."

"Midoriya…" She grunted in pain as she held her wound. "Midoriya Izuku… That is his name."

Some called her trust misguided, but she believed in Midoriya Izuku regardless of the rumors. This war was stupid, pitting people against each other while darkness worked behind the shadows. They succeeded, robbing the innocents of peace and security while manipulating the bigger players like puppets. She doesn't stand for that. She stands for justice. She stands for the symbol of peace.

Katsuki's face lit up in recognition when he heard the name. The angel of the battlefield was known for rushing into the front lines, saving any soul without checking if they were friend or foe.

Uraraka spoke again, but this time, it was for a favor.

Katsuki sneered. With the current circumstances, he had an inkling of what she was going to ask of him.

"If you're gonna beg me to spare your life, don't waste your breath."

Uraraka laughed derisively. It was a mocking, grating laugh. "I'm not that pathetic, you ass."

She then groaned in pain, and it was a harsh reminder that she was bleeding out, just moments away from her destruction. Patches of her skin was singed. Dirt-filled air clogged her throat.

"Please…" she pleaded. "After you finish me off… Can you perform the proper funeral rites for me?"

Katsuki stared, confuzzled.

He shook his head. "I don't understand…"

Uraraka smiled sadly. "The Kingdom of Esphur do them differently."

With her free hand, she patted the ground. "When their soldiers die, they bury them, so that their bodies would decompose and return to the soil, where they can contribute back to nature and all the living things that walk upon it."

It was a lovely approach to the afterlife, but they differed from what the people of Nethereal preferred. For them, the deceased would be cremated after a full day of prayer, and afterwards, their ashes would be transported to the peak of a mountain where the wind would carry them away. They desired to be closer to the stars and travel as far as the wind would take them. The philosophy was to be everywhere and anywhere, for though they were a speck in this vast universe, they were a speck that could go the distance.

If Uraraka died on Esphur soil, she would have been buried beneath the ground, and for her, that would have been a cruel fate. Yes, she fought for Midoriya Izuku, but if possible, she does not want to be buried against her wishes. Her friend was a sensitive and understanding man, and he promised to cremate her if he found her body, but he also warned that this was a war, and wishes were difficult to fulfill in these troubling times. Those were the risks, and Uraraka accepted them graciously.

But here, she had an opportunity to ensure her wishes would be respected.

Katsuki doesn't know what overcame him at that moment. Years later Izuku would tell him that it was compassion that made him hold Uraraka's hand, gripped it so tight so that she would be at ease, but that couldn't be right. There was no space for such frivolities in this war.

"What is your name?" he asked quietly.

At first, there was silence, and Katsuki feared that she breathed her last.

"Uraraka… Ochako…" She answered him. It sounded frail and weak.

"I will," he told her as he placed his hand on her head. He would make this a swift death to end her suffering. "Rest assured, Uraraka Ochako, I will forever remember your name."

Traitors deserved execution. They didn't deserve mercy, but as Katsuki tried and failed to smile, he knew this execution felt wrong. However, he was a soldier first, and a human second.

Before he ignited his sweat, before his hands were stained with blood once more, he heard the ear-splitting screech of an engine flaring to life.

"Recipro Burst!"

An armored leg swung for his head, and though Katsuki attempted to move, it still made contact against his cheek. The force of the kick was powerful, powerful enough to fling Katsuki into the air as the intruder scooped Uraraka into his arms and sped away. Katsuki should have followed them. His wounds were only cosmetic with a couple scuffs on the exterior. He would have won, too, if the puttering smoke on the knight's legs and the deadweight in his arms were evident enough.

A deal was a deal. A win was a win. If he won, he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

Katsuki rubbed his cheek and hissed. There was no question that he would sport a nasty bruise by nightfall. He turned around, exhausted of today's events. Later he would return to camp and report to his superiors on the lead he had on Midoriya Izuku, for he was a person they have been targeting for ever since he raided enemy territory and freed a bunch of war prisoners.

Even so, he doesn't like these orders. He never expected them to stoop so low to target medical teams. It seemed like a coward's move, but he bit his tongue and moved on because there was no room for debate. An inner voice in his head told him to not mention Uraraka Ochako and the knight in shining armor, and to his surprise, he listened to it.

This was not mercy, he told himself. He was just honoring the code. He did whatever the hell he wanted.

However, not everything was just water under the bridge, for this decision would come back to bite him a month later when he was assigned his new mission: to assassinate Midoriya Izuku.

* * *

At the crack of dawn, the boys woke up, sore and aching and well-slept from last night's activities. After showering, Katsuki hurriedly applied makeup to any areas with noticeable scrapes or discolored skin, which were few and far between. Sure, it was reckless of them to spar in the first place, but they were extra careful. They don't want to provide the tabloids evidence of a possible abusive relationship. That would be preposterous.

This was slightly unrelated and Katsuki doesn't want to brag, but he won last night's match.

The two went off in their respective directions. For Katsuki, he promised to eat a hearty breakfast with his parents and escort them to the rose garden where they would meet Izuku's parents. One major concern about the wedding was the meshing of their clashing cultures, but their wedding planner took that into account and somehow managed to seamlessly accommodate for everybody.

One change was the visitations. Traditionally in the Kingdom of Esphur, the groom's parents visit the bride's hometown where they would formally greet the bride's parents and offer them a lavish dowry. For the people of Nethereal, those formalities were arbitrary. Instead, there was a bigger focus on the ceremony itself.

Their families compromised on meeting at the rose garden to exchange the gifts and presents there since it was only for presentation. There was no actual bargaining taking place, and the setting was casual enough for Katsuki's parents to accept the terms. At first, the boys were hesitant for their parents to meet and mingle since they were previous enemies in a decade-long war, but those concerns were dashed as they saw Queen Mitsuki reunite with her old childhood friend. Izuku even got misty-eyed over the reunion with his mother bawling her eyes out on Queen Mitsuki's shoulder.

Izuku supposed that with his biological father's death, the queen was more susceptible to bury the hatchet and rebuild those burnt bridges. Also, she seemed to trust Toshinori Yagi more than his late father. He doesn't blame her. His surrogate father was revered as one of the greatest knights in history, and as a king, he was a benevolent ruler despite his inexperience in ruling a kingdom. Rather than raging an all-out war, Toshinori approached politics with a kinder but firmer stance. He was not the type who shot first and asked questions later.

Albeit begrudgingly, Katsuki remembered this man. He was a fearsome opponent who overpowered anyone who stood in his path - himself included. It left a bitter taste in Katsuki's tongue to admit that he had to retreat whenever the legendary All Might stepped foot into the war zone. Even so, the man held insurmountable strength and fierce dedication for his people. In his book, that deserved respect. It was a rarity to find a person of his caliber.

There was another pest like him, Katsuki thought as he eyed Izuku. He was about to leave him be, but then he stopped. One look at the nerd, and he figured out that he was upset.

Katsuki roughly kicked against Izuku's calf with the heel of his foot. Izuku jumped and swung his head to glare at him. Katsuki glanced at their parents. He doesn't want them to overhear their conversation, so he spoke in a lowered voice.

"What's the matter with you?" he probed. He tilted his head and searched for any obvious tells.

Initially, he assumed that Izuku was a sore loser, but that was ludicrous. Izuku was a competitive person, but he wouldn't get upset over a simple tussle.

True to his character, he replied, "Nothing."

If nothing meant wearing a sad and forlorn expression as if he murdered a puppy in cold blood, then yeah, sure, it was nothing. Nothing, his ass.

Katsuki quirked his lips in annoyance.

"Wow," he scoffed. "What? You don't trust me enough to tell me what's hurting you?"

Still, Izuku said nothing back. Katsuki clicked his tongue.

"I guess after everything I told you, you can't do the same for me."

He briskly walked away. "Some friend you are," he left those last words in hopes that it struck Izuku's core. He was playing dirty, but he doesn't have the time to dance around his fiancé's sensibilities.

Oblivious to Katsuki's absence, his parents were comfortable at the gazebo they resided in as they were served biscuits and tea. Izuku's parents laughed along with them, most likely reminiscing the old days or nostalgic shit like that.

He waited for a few seconds.

"Kacchan, wait!"

Bingo.

Izuku jogged to his side, the soles of his feet slapping against the brick road. He clutched onto the sleeve of his shirt with a guilt-ridden look.

"I'm just…" he fumbled over his words. "It's what Iida-kun told me this morning," he confessed.

Katsuki wasn't expecting that name to come out of his lips. It doesn't ring a bell.

"Who?"

"Iida-kun, my best friend," he explained with earnest.

No offense, but it's cute that Izuku thinks that Katsuki cared enough to memorize who his friends looked like. Hell, people in general were lucky if he christened them with a nickname after their first meeting.

Izuku caught on that Katsuki doesn't remember and blew out a puff of air in frustration.

"Blue hair and glasses," Izuku cited off some of his notable characteristics. "When he gets enthusiastic, he gesticulates a lot. His quirk allows him to have engines on his calves."

A bespectacled man flashed in his mind, but it was brief. If he recalled correctly, he was at Uraraka's side when he saw her arrival, but then another thought occurred to him because now he knew that Iida had engines on his legs. The knight who intervened in his fight against Uraraka had the same quirk. To dampen the panic, he played off nonchalance.

"I think I saw Four Eyes once. What about him?"

Besides the slight irritation of the nickname, Izuku looked as if he struck a nerve. When he asked that, Izuku casted his eyes to the ground and gripped the hem of his shirt, thumbing it incessantly until it wrinkled and creased. He would have torn it apart, too, if he wasn't having too much trouble formulating words.

He explained detachedly, "Iida-kun was supposed to be my best man for this wedding."

He paused and let the realization sink in. Izuku doesn't have a best man. Uraraka ended up as his maid of honor.

"He doesn't…" For Izuku, the sting was still fresh even though it has been months ever since the rejection. "He doesn't accept our marriage, so… He won't attend the ceremony or reception."

He was thankful that it was a peaceful form of protest, but it was disheartening to not have his best friend be there to support him, to congratulate him. He was even more heartbroken when Iida told him beforehand that he wasn't here to change his mind but to only escort Uraraka here safely.

"Well," Katsuki said awkwardly. "That sucks. Why?"

There was a complicated answer and a short answer. The short answer would have been Iida's protective streak for the people he loved and cared for. The complicated answer ran deeper, for it was Iida who strung Izuku into his personal grudges and besought Stain's head on a pike. It was Iida who shared Izuku's burden of an innocent child's death and helped him bury her grave. It was Izuku who brought him back to the light and punched reason into his revenge-addled brain, and it was Izuku who was going to marry a violent man, one who nearly killed one of his closest friends.

This morning Iida came across Izuku during the time he left to fetch his parents. The man expressed his concerns again and tried to persuade Izuku to leave Katsuki at the altar. He wanted to give him a way out, but Izuku's answer was the same as last time. He loves Katsuki. He won't run away. Iida cannot change his mind.

He doesn't tell Katsuki the complicated answer, but he told him about what transpired this morning.

Guilt-ridden, Katsuki finally blurted out, "I think it's my fault. I have something to say."

"If it's about the fact that you almost killed Uraraka-san," Izuku said, "Then yeah, he was also salty about that."

Katsuki widened his eyes. "You knew about that?"

Izuku nodded. There was an unsaid pact between them to not disclose too much about their past in fear of bringing a can of worms to the table. Izuku was aware of Uraraka's near-death experience; he was the one who mainly treated her. He never knew Katsuki was the one who inflicted those scars upon her until he revealed the news of his engagement to his friends.

"I found out when I told my friends that I was going to marry you."

In hindsight, that should have been obvious to Katsuki. Izuku would have found out sooner or later.

"Then why did you still agree to marry me?"

"Iida-kun didn't take the news well. He was livid and wouldn't speak to me for days." For the first time ever since they started this conversation, Izuku lifted his head and stared into his eyes. "I was doubtful about this engagement. I was having second thoughts, but then Uraraka, of all people, vouched for you."

Katsuki was speechless, and Izuku nodded because he understood his bafflement. No sane person would defend their attacker, and he was partially right.

"Don't worry," Izuku said as if he wanted to reassure Katsuki that his friend didn't lose her marbles, "She still doesn't understand why I fell in love with you, but something she said stuck with me."

Katsuki stared straight ahead. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. The roses were in full bloom. The temperature was just right. Minus the bags under his eyes, Izuku looked handsome in his suit.

Katsuki blinked. "What did she say?"

Izuku gave him a crooked smile. Uraraka was a traitor. She was called a scumbag who left her kingdom to join Izuku's ranks even though her crime was just abandoning her post to save as many people as possible. Even though her people threw her away, she never threw away her people, her origins, her loyalty.

"In my opinion," she said back then, "You guys don't seem compatible at all. For some couples, they're a match made in heaven, but for you two, you guys are a match made in hell."

"Can you believe that?" Izuku laughed. "She said that to my face."

Katsuki snorted. Indeed, they were a match made in hell.

"She told me that despite everything, you were an honest man."

Izuku remembered how stern she sounded, how certain she was in her statement. An honest man was hard to find in this pointless war. Most of them were dead.

"I don't know what you did for her," Izuku said, "But it must have been important. I don't need you to be nice, or sweet, or caring. I just needed someone trustworthy enough to pull this deal off, and I got what I wanted."

"I see," Katsuki said because there was nothing else to say.

Then, he asked, "Do you regret it?"

"No," Izuku said without hesitation.

Even though his relationship with Iida soured, he knew their friendship was stronger than this spat. A wise person once told him that he shouldn't half-ass this war, that there would be tough sacrifices along the way. Iida was one of those sacrifices, and it was a sacrifice Izuku was willing to make.

"But it's not all bad. It's just my best friend not going to my wedding," Izuku tried for levity. "How much worse could it be?"

"Emergency! Emergency!"

As if on cue, Kirishima sprinted towards them, disheveled and frenetic. His hair was a gelled mess, and his clothes were in disarray. If Katsuki didn't know any better, he thought they were under attack. Kirishima blubbered and flushed red as he stuttered out the reason why he was here.

"We lost the ring!"

Never mind, Katsuki thought, it just got worse.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you for your kind words. They mean so much to me. This is a little birthday present to myself, so enjoy**

When Katsuki asked Kirishima to be his best man, the redhead bawled for hours upon hours, crushing him with a bruising embrace until he began to turn a slight tinge of blue. Kirishima was a good man, a reliable man, and Katsuki doesn't hand out compliments for free. They were hard-earned and well-deserved.

Kirishima promised him that he would be his spear and his shield, his horse that would never waver or falter, and Katsuki trusted him, believed in him as he entrusted the rings to him. They were essential to the wedding. Without them, there would be a political upheaval. Powerful figures from Izuku's kingdom would take this as an insult, providing them the excuse they needed to call Katsuki unfit to be his husband. Traditions were a tricky business. They had to be respected. Therefore, in a matter of a couple hours, Izuku and Katsuki had to find the rings. They were on a deadline.

To describe Katsuki's aura as murderous would have been too kind. He stomped his way towards Kaminari's room, the one he shared with Kirishima, with a thirst for genocide as he dragged his best man by the scruff of his neck. Smoke emanated from his palms, and Kirishima blanched as he heard a distinct sizzle and smelled burnt cotton. The redhead whimpered as he felt his tie slowly disintegrate into ashes, the heat of his ruined clothes prickling the back of his neck, but he accepted his fate. This was all his undoing.

Izuku trailed a few feet behind them, silently praying for Kirishima's soul before he was ejected from his mortal body. Though he was aghast that the redhead would misplace the rings, he was more concerned for his life. Kirishima may have admitted to his crimes, but Katsuki knew there was an accomplice involved.

The blond was not experienced in the throes of pleasure or the ecstasy of sex, nor does he want to, but he was not so blind that he cannot recognize the hickeys peppered on his friend's neck or the purposeful wrinkles on his suit. He was attuned to the dopey grin on Kirishima's face, one that even rivaled Kaminari's after a large-scale shock, and the specks of white near the lapels of his black suit. There was only one reasonable explanation for his debauched state.

Reaching Kirishima's suite, Katsuki blasted the door off its hinges, revealing Kaminari on all-fours, most likely searching for the rings. He was in a similar state as his lover. His hair was ruffled, and his jacket was put on inside out.

They were idiots alright; there were still marks of the evidence that they failed to smear away.

"Oh, hi there Bakubro!" he greeted skittishly.

Kaminari looked worse for wear with red, swollen lips and mussy hair, as if fingers carded through them, encouraging him to keep going until release. Katsuki took him by the nape of his neck and slammed him against the wall alongside his lover with their fronts pressed against the wallpaper and legs dangling in the air. Izuku watched as the bystander, for he knew nobody could save them now.

Katsuki leaned forward. A dark shadow crossed the veneer of his smile.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't rip off your family jewels to replace the rings," he threatened with a light-hearted tone. "There is a time and place for everything," he continued. "So…"

He pushed his thumbs against the cervical bones of their spine.

"What made you numbskulls think it was alright for you to have sex right before my wedding, hm?"

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, dude that hurts!" Kaminari whined.

"We're sorry! We can explain!" Kirishima said next pitifully.

"Explain," he growled, his patience ticking away.

"He looked so delectable in that suit," Kaminari shot off, totally missing the mark. "I mean, he looked like a goddamn snack. How can I resist? Can you blame us?"

Yes, yes he can.

Indeed, Katsuki could only handle so much stupidity. He slammed his sparky friend into the wall again to silence him. He pointedly eyed Kirishima, waiting for his dumb excuse.

"We, uh, we believe we lost the rings in this room," he stalled for time as he recollected his thoughts. "It was still in my pockets when we, uh," he turned almost as red as his hair, "When we undressed," he finished hastily.

Though muffled by the plaster blocking his mouth, Kaminari topped it off with, "It wasn't there when we finished."

Katsuki sucked in a sharp breath. "Unbelievable," he said tiredly and dropped his best friends like a sack of rice.

He glared at them with scorching, bloodthirsty eyes. The two scooched back in fear. Katsuki looked ready to tear them limb from limb, skewer them alive, and roast them over the fire pit. Knowing Katsuki and the manic look in his eyes, that was a half-joke.

This was where Izuku stepped in as the moderator, pushing his way forward with his savior complex. He clapped his hand on Katsuki's shoulder, hoping to neutralize him with a smile.

"Kacchan, I can take it from here," he said.

Katsuki shrugged off his hand and looked offended. "What? You want to stick with these two nimrods?"

He took a stomp forward, the sole of his shoe slapping against the tile with a sickening smack, and took cruel pleasure seeing Kaminari and Kirishima scoot even further back as they attempt to fuse themselves to the wall.

"I'll help them find our rings," Izuku counteracted. "In the meantime, you can escort our parents to the chapel."

"Hell no," he growled. "They're my dorks," he pointed at their shivering bodies. "I'll deal with them myself," he said and snapped his head in their direction.

"Kacchan, I understand that you're upset."

Oh, he was more than upset. He was ready commit murder on his wedding day.

"I am, too," Izuku admitted. "But castrating your best man and his fiancé would be counterproductive," he said with an exasperated smile.

Katsuki wanted to fight back, to spit fire and brimstone to have his way on his two stupid dolts, but then Izuku grabbed onto his sleeve with imploring eyes, awash with restrained pain and masked hurt. Worst of all, he knew why Izuku was upset, knew what pervaded his mind outside of his friends' inconsideration. This was a distraction for him, and he needed it like he needed air.

A bitter taste rooted in his mouth. Katsuki grunted and turned away from his puppy dog eyes. With Izuku's problems stacked upon the missing rings, Katsuki knew he was stressed beyond belief. Maybe he did need some fresh air.

In a dramatic fashion, Katsuki flayed his arms around and about with a flourish before he left the room. He looked over his shoulder to see Izuku shooting him a grateful look. He clicked his tongue. Izuku owed him big time. He was looking forward to killing his friends, but now he had to search a new outlet.

Hands pocketed and back hunched, Katsuki traipsed down the hall with a petulant frown on his lips. Stupid Deku. He played his cards well, guilt-tripping him like that.

No matter. There were other touches he needed to accomplish anyway, such as finishing his makeup and donning his cape. As he pondered over the order of their wedding program, his thoughts screeched to a halt once he overheard some overheated words. He had enough manners to not eavesdrop, so he swiftly turned around in the opposite direction. However, he stopped when he heard someone mention his name.

His heart pounded. He placed his back flat to the wall adjacent to the entrance and peeked through the edge. Flowers and leaves tickled his cheek, and though they slightly obstructed his sight, he recognized the people arguing within the garden.

Uraraka was dazzling in her dress. She wore a slim gray dress with a heart-shaped bodice pattern and blue lace atop in spirals and flora. The sides were see-through and allowed her scars, mottled and dark pink, to be shown to the world. She wore them proudly, as if she dared anybody to degrade her for her war souvenirs.

He was the culprit. Katsuki made those scars.

"Please Iida-kun," Uraraka pleaded, held onto his arm, and brought their faces closer. "Please give this a second thought."

"I can't," he shook his head, his bangs swaying with his movements. He moved his hand to his chest and swept the other across him. "I can't stand for this farce. This is wrong."

"Hatred consumes you," Uraraka said in a belligerent tone. He was still clutching onto past vendettas.

"Why… Why are you defending that _monster_?" Iida asked, distressed and confused and disjointed.

Uraraka bridled at his assumptions. "I haven't completely forgiven him," she said. "But I refuse to let my grudge ruin this wedding," she added snappishly.

"Uraraka-kun," Iida backtracked and said with a cracked voice.

His hand slowly made its way to brush against her side, hovering over it to wait for her permission. Uraraka's eyelashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes, giving him the consent to touch the damaged skin with love and gentle care. Her skin was rough and bumpy, and Iida was overwhelmed with great sadness as he lowered his head, along with his entire body, until his forehead was placed on her bare shoulder. It was creased with worry and frustration. Iida looked small and vulnerable like this.

"I only want what's best for Midoriya-kun," he whispered with fraught.

Uraraka's shoulder began to feel wet.

"I failed him so many times in the past," he said, broken. "I lost myself in revenge. I lost myself when he had to go save me. I made him lose so much." His shoulders racked with sobs. "How can I stand there and let him," he swallowed a shaky breath and heaved, "Let him marry such a man?"

Uraraka looked straight ahead, for she promised early on that she would be a pillar for this knight, this man who blamed himself for so many reasons and tried to repent as much as he could. Although she believed his need to skip the ceremony was misguided, she couldn't abandon him, and most importantly, she won't let him abandon Izuku as well.

"Midoriya-kun is strong," she said. "Though we question his tastes in men, all we can do is trust him."

"Trust him? He's marrying the enemy." Iida lifted his head, his stare boring into her chocolate eyes. He then urged, "His people caused us so many grievances. How can Midoriya-kun forgive and fall in love with him just like that? It doesn't make sense!"

But apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Uraraka jerked herself away as if his insensitive words scorched her a new wound. It was like a stake was stabbed into her heart, and Iida twisted it to heighten the pain.

"I see," she swallowed. "Then I guess I'm not worthy of forgiveness," she said quietly, "Since they're my people, too."

"That's not what I meant," Iida contradicted himself.

Even though he said that, he had already overstepped boundaries. Uraraka was shaken with fury. Wave after wave of heartbreak trembled her body. She left before Iida could cause more damage and say more vacuous dribble like telling her she was different from the rest. Her tear-stained shoulder bumped against his, and Iida stood there attached to the ground, unable to say anything to mitigate the abrasion to their friendship. Her heels clicked against the cement floor as she progressively went further and further away.

Iida crouched down and released a defeated sigh. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was in that position for a few minutes, but he left right after, seeing no purpose to stay in this spot.

Katsuki was silent, still huddled against the wall, and had trouble processing what conspired earlier. Unlike Izuku, this was none of his business. He was not a meddler. Besides, he doesn't care if Iida or Uraraka never forgave him. He would never place those unrealistic expectations on anybody. Hell, he was still on the edge if Izuku still harbored ill will towards him.

A soft-spoken voice called out his name beside him.

"Katsuki-kun?"

He jumped and almost cursed aloud, "Holy f-"

Then he saw who was in his vicinity and switched his words. "Hello, uh-"

Come to think of it, he never got a chance to figure out what to call Midoriya Inko because during his last visit at Esphur, Izuku did all the talking.

His future mother-in-law peered at him with wide, green eyes. She was a stout woman who seemed meek on the outside, but he barely scratched the surface of her nature. After all, she raised her son by herself, and Izuku was anything but less.

"You can call me 'Mom'," she offered. "Or if that still makes you uncomfortable, I have no qualms if you call me Inko."

He grunted and held out his arm.

"Mother," he said slowly. The word was unfamiliar and rolled in his tongue. The term was greatly unused, for he often called his mother an old hag for so long. "I'm here to escort you to the chapel," he said.

Though he was gruff and rough around the edges, he tried to be polite. He had enough trouble this morning. He doesn't want to add more into the list.

"Shouldn't you run after him?" She cocked her head to the side.

Katsuki furrowed his brows. "Who?"

Izuku's mother glanced at the direction Iida departed. Even though he was no longer there, she still said, "Him."

"No," Katsuki replied. "Why should I?"

He was under no obligation to interfere with Izuku's affairs. He wouldn't dare encroach upon an issue this sophisticated.

Midoriya Inko led this to another question. "Have you heard of the story of _The Bamboo Boy_?"

"Yes." Nostalgia washed over Katsuki. "The old ha-" He stopped himself. "Mom read that to me when I was a kid."

"Good."

It was a children's story between two inseparable friends, but one day a wall separated the two, leaving their communication strained and limited. The younger boy was small and weak, so he could not possibly climb the wall to the other side. The other friend was sturdy and tough and promised his friend that they would meet soon enough. However, he needed a bamboo pole to help assist him to do the job. He waited and waited for his bamboo to grow. There were occasions where other travelers and friends offered the boy their poles, but he declined their kindness in every offer because he wanted to use the pole he worked so hard on.

When the bamboo was fully grown, he chopped it off with his axe and used his pole to get to the other side of the wall. When he landed and called for his friend, he was too late. His friend was already dead. The young boy waited too long for his friend and ended up wasting away.

It was a cautionary tale, for even though it was foolish to do nothing and expect results, it was even more foolish to reject help when it was there, especially for matters that mean the most.

"Do you know why I never asked, back then when you wanted our blessings, if you ever loved my son?"

Katsuki froze.

Similar to her son's tendency to pace when nervous, she shuffled side-to-side, dwelling upon her thoughts while fiddling with her gloved thumbs. Strands of her hair were graying due to stress and age, but they were mostly held up in a neat, elegant twisted bun with shimmery diamond clips attached to it. The fringes were curled near the sides of her face. The freckles were absent, but the resemblance was there, especially the cool collectiveness the mother and son owned during high stakes situations.

She answered for him. "I've dealt with people of your kind."

Memories of Bakugou Mitsuki passed her mind. It is ironic that their sons brought them back together again.

"You don't display love through empty words," she said and gingerly held his hands, not because of his hazardous quirk but because of the stricken look on his face. "You demonstrate love through your actions," she said matter-of-factly, eyes searching for confirmation.

Though Katsuki doesn't love Izuku in a romantic or sexual light, she was right to assume that Katsuki was a man of action, not a man of words, and she was also right to assume that when he loves, he loves strongly, fiercely. It was an all-encompassing love, for it was love that had driven him to propose Izuku to save his friends from a bleak future. It was that same love that had pushed him to withstand the wedding preparations and go forth with this mockery of a marriage.

Yet, she saw something that even he doesn't recognize. It was not exactly love, but it was indeed something akin to love.

"And right now," Inko said and squeezed his hands. "You look like you have somewhere you need to go."

She chuckled softly. "I can go to the chapel myself."

She sized herself up and rolled her aching shoulders. "I'm not so old that I need to use my son-in-law as a cane. I'll be fine," she patted his arm with a curved grin.

Before they parted ways, Izuku's mother gave Katsuki's tattoo a closer inspection.

"They're very pretty," she complimented the soft pink, budding blossoms that lined from his wrist to his knuckles. "It would be nice if Esphur adopted this tradition."

She crinkled her face in amusement and patted the back of his hand. "I'll make sure your mother and father accompany me, so don't worry about them either."

"But-"

"Do not be the bamboo boy who waited too long and rejected the help. Go do what you have to do."

With a short nod, Katsuki went off to his respective path. Katsuki searched high and low for the elusive Iida and checked every nook and cranny of the castle. He first checked the training grounds where the knights trained and practiced their footwork and sword-handling skills, but it was empty. They were probably at the chapel to inspect for any suspicious activity. Next, he checked the kitchens and servant quarters with the assumption that the male was hungry, but instead all he met was a bedlam of chaos and disaster as the chefs and their assistants worked their asses off to cook for the wedding of the decade.

His frustration was climbing as he wasted precious time. If Iida turned down whatever he said to him, he would not be surprised if he bludgeoned him to death.

Then he found himself at the library, and there he was, flipping through some moldy, crusty book that was bigger than most encyclopedias. Of course, Katsuki thought as he gritted his teeth to soothe his spiked irritation, of course Iida was a big enough loser to hole himself into this compact, dusty library and sulk throughout the duration of the ceremony and reception. He seemed like the type to brood and sip some whiskey while reading the obituaries or whatever crap depressing people would read instead of attending their best friend's wedding. What an absolute loser.

And he said just that. "What an absolute loser."

Iida paused from his reading and made eye contact. The light that filtered in through the tall pane glass window behind him gave the man an overarching shadow, which simply enhanced his brooding figure.

"Bakugou," he said curtly and closed his book without marking it, proving to Katsuki he was only biding his time.

For a proper man like Iida Tenya, the lack of honorifics was telling. Distaste molded his features. Good, Katsuki thought smugly, and returned a glower of his own. The feeling was mutual.

Katsuki took in the setting and roamed his eyes. Shelves of books- thick and skinny, old and new, fictional and non-fictional- scaled the walls from the ceiling to the ground. The room held a weird stench, one that only unused books and yellowed pages would produce. Plush, unmatching chairs were scattered everywhere in this quaint library, some closer to the lone window and some closer to the entrance. It was silent here.

Iida broke it.

"Why are you here?" he shot at Katsuki with hardened eyes and a stiff lip. "If Midoriya-kun sent you here to talk, then I don't need to hear it."

Katsuki let out a bark of a laugh. "Deku did nothing," he explained himself, "I came here of my own volition."

Iida squinted at him, his lips perking to one side.

"Well, you can leave," he dismissed him, mechanically waving his hands to shoo Katsuki out. "Nothing you can say can convince me. Whatever comes out of your mouth is already trash."

Sparks flared in Katsuki's hands. Are all Izuku's friends this stubborn?

The bespectacled man stood up quickly and guarded himself. "Please use your quirk in discretion," he whipped out his hand and added, "You wouldn't want to burn down this library on your wedding day."

"Get off your high horse," Katsuki spat, high-strung. "I don't expect anything from the likes of you."

He listed off, "Deku can't convince you."

Katsuki remembered the despondent expression on his face when he admitted that his best friend declined to be his best man. He imagines him right now, wearing a faltered expression at the altar with one less friend to congratulate him. One spot, entirely open for the man in front of him, blank.

"Your stupid crush on Uraraka can't convince you," he continued.

Then there was Uraraka, strong, sweet Uraraka, who didn't pardon Katsuki of all his wrongdoings but still agreed to be Iida's substitution. She, who still held a shred of hope, battled and gave it her best shot but came back with a broken heart.

"What makes you think _I_ can convince you?"

He slammed against the tabletop. Iida showed indifference.

"I can't," he admitted.

He was going to lose, just like Izuku and Uraraka, but he would rather lose with pride than to lose with an insufferable loss.

"But there's no way in hell," he bounced back, "I can come back to him without trying."

He doesn't care if Iida stopped listening halfway through his rant. This was not about him. This was not about Katsuki. This was deeper than that.

"Plug your ears for all I care," his voice shook with tremendous ire. "Go ahead. Think of me as some heartless bastard if it helps you sleep at night. Maybe I am with all the shit I did in the past. But know this," he erected his thumb and planted it straight at his chest. "At least I know what it's like to be a friend, and a friend would-"

He paused, and Iida watched him apprehensively. A roadblock was in Katsuki's midst, his mind struggling to catch up to what he said, but honestly, he doesn't know how to end this.

At first, he planned to say some shit like how a real friend would attend his best friend's wedding or whatever mushy crap movies sell these days, but that didn't sit right with him. It was too basic. Too fake. Too insincere.

His heart thrummed within the confines of his ribcage. His lungs pumped for more oxygen as his breath quickened. He was slowly reaching an epiphany, but he was still missing pieces.

Katsuki held his wrist and slid his fingers across knuckles, right where the tips of the petals marked his ring finger. Izuku was not Kaminari or Kirishima, nor was he Mina or Sero or Jirou. He was persistent and rose to the ranks among these people for he never gave up trying to get into his good graces. He never saw his exterior and thought he was an uneducated, uncouth man, for he challenged him physically and mentally again and again.

Izuku. Plain, useless Deku.

Well, nowadays, he was not so useless anymore. He had grown from the weeds and ashes and came out renewed.

Katsuki wondered if he changed, too. He wondered how much, if there was even a way to measure it at all.

He must have because now Izuku was his friend, a righteous man who saved his mother without hesitation, who continued to let his emotions sway his movements. Izuku was his friend, a pesky man who wanted to know his likes and dislikes, who scribbled them all onto his annoying composition notebooks. Izuku was his friend, a man he trusted enough to divulge him of his sexuality, who never compared him to a robot or pushed him to try harder in his relationships, who never sabotaged his trust even though he had so many opportunities.

Izuku was his friend.

Katsuki was his.

At the end of the line, this was not for Iida's sake or Katsuki's sake. He doesn't need to say that thought aloud, for there was nothing more that could be said regarding his feelings for Izuku. Today he was not a liar. Today he would not be the bamboo boy. Today he was a friend.

"A real friend would want what's best for Deku," he echoed Iida's words. He was calm now. "Deku is unhappy," he told the man, Izuku's pinched face flashing in his mind. "And I think… A friend wouldn't want that," he ended quietly, so quietly that Iida barely heard him.

He doesn't give Iida a chance to talk back. Katsuki pivoted and left, leaving the man with engines on his legs alone. It was that man's turn to reach an epiphany.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm still undecided if I want to continue posting here because I heard there are some problems in this site. Lemme know if I should continue. I also have an ao3 account under the same name.**

Izuku opened a drawer and peeked at the contents inside. A half-filled bottle of lube was capped incorrectly and a messily arranged stack of condoms were shoved to the back. There were other items, mainly ones a lecherous pervert would hoard and buy from an adult store, and-

Izuku slammed the drawer shut. Kirishima and Kaminari paused in their search to look at him. The green-haired man blinked and stared into the blank space of his wall for clarity. He hasn't lost his virginity yet, but his eyes sure have. He closed his eyes next, hoping that the darkness would erase the image from his memory, but it was too late. His eyes were corrupted, and he can never revert them back to their original state.

Don't people usually hide these things in more discreet places?

He let out a sigh and continued his search. It was tedious work, but it redirected his energy and attention away from Iida and into the task he was in charge of. Now he was crawling all over the ground as the receptors in his hand meticulously patted the carpet to find the lost rings.

"Thank you, Midoriya."

Izuku momentarily stopped and raised his head. He glanced at Kirishima, whose head was pressed sideways underneath the bed frame.

Izuku cocked his head to the side. "What for? I didn't find the ring yet."

Then it was Kaminari's turn to speak up. "For being there for him," he said.

He rummaged through the sheets, peeking beneath the covers until he explained himself. "Bakugou… I don't know."

He dropped the covers and pushed back his bangs in thought. "As long as we can remember, he always looked at us as if he wanted to tell us something."

Kirishima climbed back up. Since he had no luck finding the rings, he joined the conversation. "Denki and I were worried, you know? We were worried that he felt like a third wheel ever since we hooked up." He rubbed his arm with a frown. "He told us that it never bothered him, but we still felt terrible. Whatever we said or did, he never told us what was wrong."

"He never wanted to make us worry," Kaminari spoke from experience.

He hardened his eyes, and it took Izuku by surprise. He had never seen the man wore such a look. The expression smoothed over, and he reverted to his usual slick self. "Then he was engaged to you, out of the blue, and-"

Kaminari bunched the covers in his hand. "I don't know. He seemed happier. Less cautious of his surroundings."

He failed as Katsuki's friend, and Kirishima shared that same guilt. The were his closest companions, yet Katsuki still chose to bottle up the powerful emotions that swirled within him. They felt like they failed him. After all, what kind of friends were they if Katsuki was too afraid to tell them his feelings?

Izuku watched the two with tender lens and wanted to wipe the frowns off their faces. "He'll tell you someday," he said softly.

If Katsuki can talk to him, then he can talk to them. "Maybe not today, but when he's ready, he will. I'm sure of it."

Katsuki cared for them. They were the ones who softened his stone-like structure, who made him bend forwards and back to their will. They were the ones who joked and prodded without resistance, who made him smile again as if they were an anti-depressant pill.

"He loves you guys," Izuku said. He knew this was true.

Izuku was confident of his words, but at the same time, he was also embarrassed to speak on Katsuki's behalf. He was spouting off his mouth again, wasn't he? To cover up his embarrassment, he switched to looking under the rug. Therefore, he doesn't see how Kirishima's eyes watered, how Kaminari's shoulders slouched and relaxed. This concern weighed in their minds for months, but Izuku always held this aura that made him more open, more likeable. He made talking about their feelings easier.

"Thanks, Midoriya," they said together. Then, with twin cheeky, dimpled grins, they told him, "He loves you, too."

Izuku winced.

He wasn't brave enough to lower the rug and affirm their words. There was a stab to his heart. It was like a block of coal sunk in his chest.

How does Katsuki do it, lying to these sincere men with a straight face? Izuku couldn't. He wouldn't even try.

Grateful for the rug that hid his sad smile, he dug deeper for any remaining reserves of strength. "Yeah," he said and tampered down the guilt. "He does."

He had no right to complain. He volunteered to search for the missing rings. These feelings had to resurface one way or the other. He chose this path, so even though he wished he could distance himself from Kaminari and Kirishima, he was stuck here with them. At least it enabled him to run away from his problems with Iida.

Before he drove himself into this cesspool of emotions, Kaminari's voice rang out, clear and strong.

"Found it!"

Izuku dropped the rug and saw Kaminari peeking out from the bathroom, which was connected to the bedroom. A snarky grin resided his lips. In his fist were two matching rings.

"That's great," Izuku clapped as he stepped closer. "Where did you find it?"

"Odd," Kirishima said as he inspected the pair of entwined white gold rings. "I don't remember fucking in here."

Izuku almost choked on air. Do they even understand the concept of shame?

"You," he grasped for words. "You didn't do…" He rubbed his temples. He can relate to Katsuki a bit more now. "You didn't do _it_ here?"

"Nope," Kaminari answered with a pop. "I guess we were too wild to remember," he added with a shit-eating grin.

"Yeah." The redhead pressed closer and canted his hips. Kaminari sidled closer as if they were polar magnets attracted to each other. "I might need some help remembering how wild it was."

Izuku scrunched his face. He cannot believe he was being subjected to watch this weird mating dance. Inwardly, he was glad Katsuki does not exhibit poor seductive habits like this.

"Guys," he snapped his fingers repeatedly. "The wedding."

He had to put his foot down, or they would rut each other like rabbits. "Not now," he pointed at their wardrobe with a stiff lip. "Go change."

Kirishima placed the rings into his outstretched hand and saluted. "Sir, yes, sir," they said.

Izuku rolled his eyes. At least the two managed to look sheepish.

* * *

"There you are!" Katsuki grouched and snatched his future husband's wrist.

"Wah-cchan!" Izuku jumped, as if he was spooked.

Ever since Katsuki's talk with Iida, everything seemed a thousand times more insufferable. His hair was frazzled. His pits began to feel sweaty from all the speed walking. Seriously, he needed to put a tracking device on Izuku because he had been hunting for the green-haired man for eons. When he returned to Kirishima's room, all he met was a pair of horny lovebirds groping each other as if it was their last fuck on earth. Katsuki ended that behavior with an iron fist when he threatened to rescind his role as their best man if they kept this shit up.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he grinded his teeth and dragged Izuku down the hallway.

The headdress on Katsuki fanned over major portions of his face like a thin silver cord that wrapped around the crown of his head. Beads and fine pieces of metal jingled and jangled with each step he took, and he made everything seemed light despite the immense weight of the multiple medals and badges of honor decorating his neck and chest.

Izuku owned some evidence of his valor, too, but metals were not as plentiful in Esphur. They were mainly stitched into their uniforms or recorded to save resources.

Normally Izuku would have struggled for the man to let go like slamming his palm into his elbow and twisting it until his grip weakened, but he followed along, his eyes catching onto Katsuki's complexion. Besides the clean ivory tuxedo that fitted his dapper figure, his smoky eyes were the highlight, giving his youthful face a mature but entrancing look. His hair was spiked as always, but he still noticed the slight trim that made his side burns more pronounced. Katsuki was devastatingly handsome, and there was a pang of envy when he noticed the lack of blemishes or black spots on his face. He was the picture-perfect model of a groom.

Then there was Izuku.

He doesn't feel entirely inferior, but he wondered if his attire was too average for the people of Nethereal. Compared to the Katsuki's modern look, he chose the traditional route with a plain white tuxedo with peaked lapels, classic trousers that matched with the jacket, and a glossy pair of comfortable leather lace-up shoes. According to Uraraka, he doesn't look half-bad, but he doesn't look extraordinary either. His hair was atrocious as well. The hairdressers tried to tame his hair and make it bend to their will, but with the short amount of time they were given after he left Kirishima's room, they eventually parted his bangs and slicked them with gel and hairspray.

At least they didn't straighten it. That would have been horrendous.

He was so engrossed with Katsuki, he didn't notice they stopped until he almost bumped his nose against his shoulder. With a cursory glance, he realized he was escorted to their makeup artist.

Aoyama was a good friend despite his flamboyant and gregarious tendencies. He was a man who loved the spotlight and wanted to shine in the limelight. He exhibited those dreams through the craft of painting beauty onto others and rose in popularity through word of mouth. However, not many people were aware of his involvement with Izuku. Before, he was the best rumor mill in town since he traveled all over the kingdom for his appointments. Some clients believed him to be a tad narcissistic, and though they were not entirely wrong, he also had a knack of gaining information many would die for. Instead, he tipped off Izuku whenever trouble ran amuck free of charge as long as he taste-tested some of his dishes.

Katsuki's makeup skills could be deemed professional, but Aoyama owned that special touch. He knew what colors would pop best, what trends the populace followed most. As Aoyama powdered Izuku's face and prepped him for the ceremony, Katsuki began to don his cape and held his blindfold.

Nethereal had a tradition where the bride would wear a bridal train dress and the groom would fashion a cape. The length held significant importance. It meant the longevity of the marriage between the couple and blessed them with a long, fruitful life together. Katsuki's cape was made with the hides he gathered from his hunting trips. It was stained a carmine color that matched the red of his eyes, the red of his lips, and the red of his blood. Tufts of fur pillowed his neck, tickling him with its soft texture. He looked pristine. He looked regal. He looked ready.

Then he averted his attention back to Izuku.

Katsuki doesn't want to be _that_ bitch, but he was critical when it comes to perfection. To any regular normie, he would have swatted away the brushes from their grasp. Seeing Aoyama make those exuberant strokes were downright sinful and sloppy, but he withheld that pressing need since he was Izuku's acquaintance. Also, if he took action, he wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally made the man smear a stripe across his fiancé's face.

"Voilà," Aoyama spun around and posed. Head lifted high, he kissed his fingers. "He is finished."

Izuku opened his eyes and examined his reflection in front of the mirror. Holographic glitter was dabbed at the corners of his eyes. A pinker blush was applied to his cheeks, giving him a healthier look than the exhaustion seeping into his features. He smiled. A warm, fluttering feeling grew in his chest.

"Thank you, Aoyama," he breathed.

He wondered if all grooms felt like this, like Cinderella when the fairy transformed her tatters and rags into a sparkly ballroom gown, or Aladdin when the genie granted him luxurious clothes and robes. When he stood, Katsuki wordlessly stood behind him and stared at his reflection a bit too long for comfort. Izuku noticed and felt his cheeks grew in temperature. In Katsuki's hands was a white wintry wool cape, and he draped it over Izuku's back, his hands meticulously sliding over his shoulders with a reserved gentle touch. It felt awkward staring at each other through the mirror, but Izuku kept eye contact as he raised his head for Katsuki to have better access below his chin to clasp the cape together.

"There," Katsuki said as he parted from his back, his fingers brushing against the fabric for one last time.

The cape was a nice touch. Although Izuku was not a natural-born hunter like Katsuki, he still wanted to pay his respects with a cape of his own. Their capes touched the ground, pooling around their feet. Izuku had to be mindful to not trip over them as he walked down the aisle.

Katsuki hovered in front of him this time and adjusted his tie, brows furrowed in concentration until it was symmetric against his broad chest.

"Finally," he patted his chest with a sense of accomplishment. "Now you look good." He wore a facetious grin and added, "But not as good as me."

Izuku pouted. Katsuki was probably joking, but Izuku was more disappointed with the small part of himself that agreed. Katsuki's grin grew as if he sensed those thoughts and threw Izuku's blindfold to his face. Aoyama sputtered, mortified and scrambled to Izuku's side to inspect his face in case Katsuki's carelessness ruined the makeup.

"See you at the end of the aisle, nerd," the blond said over his shoulder as he left to stall for time. "Don't break a leg," he chuckled, as if it was an inside joke Izuku should recognize.

The green-haired man tilted his head and wondered what was so funny about not breaking his leg.

"What a strange man," Aoyama tutted. "Who does he think he is? To hide his compliments with rudeness."

Izuku snorted. "Who knows?" he shrugged. "I'm still trying to figure him out."

He would have lots of time to do so, he added sarcastically.

With Katsuki gone, he would like to play catch-up with his eccentric friend. Last he heard, he was jumping through hoops to procure and host his own fashion show.

"I'm surprised you haven't rambled about it ever since you got here," Izuku said as he mentioned this to him.

"Observant as always my dear friend," Aoyama preened, like a peacock ruffling his feathers.

He was very flattered, but then he slapped his cheeks.

"Ah~ I thought you would never ask! I should have brought photos," he bemoaned.

As expected, the man dramatically brought the back of his hand to his forehead and fell back into Izuku's arms. "Alas," he sniffled, "Your wedding plagued my thoughts to the point that I forgot."

Izuku giggled. "There's always next time," he offered.

"Indeed."

"Will you attend the ceremony?"

"Of course," he answered lavishly. "Unfortunately, I rushed here on short notice, so I guess your wedding guests can only feast on my beautiful form during the reception," he sighed.

"I know," Izuku said as he put his friend upright. "You're not Aoyama Yuuga if you're not hogging the limelight, but for sure the guests will appreciate the party favors you helped prepare."

"Good. I put much thought into them," he sparkled with glee.

Izuku shook his head and laughed, for his friend was a different brand of endearing when he permitted it. He thought Aoyama would continue the conversation, but as he fitted his gloves, he felt the tension. When he slipped into the gloves and checked on his friend, Aoyama leaned close, eyes shifting left and right as if the shadows had ears.

His arms slid around his torso and placed his head near his shoulder. His strong, overwhelming perfume attacked Izuku's nose.

"I'm sorry it took me so long, my dear friend," he murmured lowly, as if undesirable eavesdroppers could hear at any moment, "But I think I found her."

Izuku's heart lurched, his body quaking from excitement.

"Is she…" Izuku gulped, his eyes blinking away the moisture. "Is she fine?" He doesn't want to sound too urgent, too hopeful.

Aoyama held his calloused hands and petted them gently. He doesn't want to break Izuku's hopes either. "I hope so, but I'm afraid not for long."

"Why?" Izuku began to press, his hands clenching Aoyama's daintier ones with insistence, but then they were interrupted by someone harshly pounding the door.

"Oi Deku! How long are you gonna take, hah?! You gonna coop yourself up in there forever?"

"C-coming!" Izuku sputtered and dropped Aoyama's hands.

He looked at Aoyama before flinching from the abuse his door was handling. He made an exasperated sound and quickly pecked both of Aoyama's cheeks as thanks.

"Tell me more later," he breathed and ran to greet Katsuki before he rammed into his door and destroy his second one today.

"About time," Katsuki complained, giving Izuku one final once-over.

"Sorry," Izuku apologized while rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

Short on time, they went on the move.

Katsuki scoffed, "You're not."

"I am," Izuku stuck out his tongue.

"Dunno. You look like you have the face of a liar," Katsuki supplied with a resting bitch face.

Indignant, Izuku then asked, "Yeah? What is it about my face that looks like a liar?"

Moments passed, and the man thought Katsuki ignored him or chose to disregard it. However, he was wrong when Katsuki wore a smug grin and said, "When you wear that stupid look on your face when I beat you."

"Beat me? In what?"

From there, Katsuki sped off, his cape fluttering off the ground, leaving Izuku behind without a head start, and most likely this was revenge for leaving him stranded or straying off whenever Katsuki had to look for him.

"Wait! That's not fai-" Izuku groaned.

He was wasting his breath, so Izuku chased after his fiancé, hot on his tail. On a couple of sharp turns, his hands slammed into walls, but he kept up the velocity and momentum with his quirk. Katsuki never said anything about using assistance.

Eventually, he caught up, and when he did, the two raced down hallways like the brats they never got the chance to be. There was even some foul play amiss that included elbowing and light shoving, but nothing too strenuous that would cause an accidental rip or scuff. Innocent workers dodged out of the way as the couple passed by them in a flurry. Fortunately, their families were not here to bear witness, or they would have gotten a heart attack from the sheer reckless energy they exhibited.

By the end, they broke out a small sweat and came out safe and sound.

"Cheater," Izuku panted as they exited the castle, giving Katsuki a fabulous stink eye.

"You deserved it. You were all over the place today."

It was Izuku's turn to grumble as they briskly walked to the chapel while also avoiding the mud and dust that could stain their clothes. The chapel was within sight, its overarching entrance and slender, fluted pillars welcomed all who came to witness the marriage between Izuku and Katsuki. Reenactments of major events were portrayed in the mosaic windows, decorating the interior with colorful filtered light and gave the area a heavenly glow. The ends of the pews were covered head to toe with multi-colored gardenias, hydrangeas, peonies, and roses. The heavy scent of flora wafted in the air.

Izuku's mother waited for him along with All Might, but Izuku supposed that in a few more months, he would call him his father, considering the gentle caresses and secret kisses they shared. Surely those increased ever since he left home. Izuku was happy for them. He wished them the world.

Katsuki was with his parents, setting up to be the first to walk down the aisle. His mother and father wrapped the blindfold over his eyes and tied it neatly, checking if the pressure was too tight or not. They took their time, mindful to not disrupt the headdress their son wore. Just like how Izuku wore his cape to pay his respects, it was Katsuki's turn to return the sentiment by honoring Esphur's tradition of wearing the blindfold.

"Is this tight enough?" he heard.

"Yeah," Katsuki responded to his mother.

There was nothing more sacred than family in Izuku's culture. Typically, the married couple were blindfolded and were led down the aisle by their parents, who would hold their hand at each side and guide them to their destination, for they were the ones who conceived them, who raised them into this rocky path called life. Of course, if the parent was not suited for the role, the individual would choose a replacement, a figure who was close to them at heart and fulfilled the roles the parents were unable to do. Once the music stopped and the married couple, along with their parents, reached the end, the parents would stand behind their children and unwrap the blindfold because now the parents have set them free. The first person, the first sight they would see in this new life would be the person they loved, the person they chose to be with forevermore. This was how the marriage was initiated.

On Izuku's right would be his mother, and on his left would be All Might. Even if Hisashi survived and lived, Izuku would have chosen the same people to accompany him through this experience. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Katsuki chose his parents to be at his side because despite his mother's misgivings, the grievances she caused him, she shaped him into the man he was. He was not ignoring the unsettled, underlying issues they held, but they were learning to heal. More accurately, he was learning to find peace in a history that was convoluted with resentment and full of hurt.

She decided his future, carved him into the hardened man he was now, so that he would survive in a war that was not meant for children. She molded him, threw him like a ragdoll until he learned how to fight back, so that he would have a fighting chance against the soldiers who would do much worse, who would take and take regardless of gender and age. She taught him how to shut his mouth, to smother his tears until he was resorted to gripping his throat to cease the hiccups and whimpers. She taught him how to hit, to destroy, to obliterate the obstacles in his path. He refined those skills over the years, but she never taught him how to grow, to nourish, to rebuild from desolate ground. With her iron grip, he lost the opportunity to connect, to form bridges, to maintain them through stormy seas and weathered wind.

He had to teach all that to himself with the assistance of Kirishima and Kaminari. Up to this day, he was still a work in progress.

Even so, he knew that if there came a time where his mother would grow old and sick and ill, Katsuki would take the throne and provide her the best care the world could offer. No questions asked.

He knew not everybody could do that. Hell, a few years ago, he would have flipped the bird and told her to go die in a rocking chair like the brash young adult he was, but nowadays it was hard to hold onto that resentment as he grew older.

A firm, sturdy pat was placed on his shoulder, and though Katsuki's vision was blocked, he knew it belonged to his father. The man was complacent to his mother's parenting style, but he was also busy wielding his sword to war, strategizing with Aizawa and other generals to protect his kingdom. He was the mantle Nethereal needed to rally the troops as his mother gave out the command to march towards enemy lines. He was the one who gave his mother the microphone, who watched from the background with a reserved but enduring resilience. His patience was vast. His knowledge expansive. Katsuki respected him in that regard.

Together, his parents were a fearsome pair, and it would have been wrong to separate them, even during the ceremony. His parents had their own good and bad traits, and Katsuki had his. It was up to Katsuki to rummage through which traits he would like to exhibit best.

"We have minutes to spare," Inko said. "I need to go to the bathroom before the procession starts, but I forgot the direction."

"Oh, first you turn left when you leave-" Izuku began to explain until Mitsuki cut in.

"I'll take you there," the woman said with a cheery tone. "We don't want you to get lost, do we?"

"You're right," Inko nodded and held onto the cuff of Toshinori's sleeve. "Do you need to go as well?"

"Well," the lanky man paused and saw the look in her eyes. He slipped his hand into hers, "I probably should."

"I might as well go, too," Masaru piped in.

Katsuki was suspicious but doesn't call them out on it since he couldn't see their expressions. Once their parents left, Izuku and Katsuki were left to their lonesome. Katsuki was standing at his spot with his arms crossed while Izuku was shuffling his shoes as he waited for his turn to get blindfolded. When he got tired of bouncing his leg and tapping against the polished tiles, he began to slyly glance at Katsuki instead. He was very nice like this, frozen without a single utterance coming from his lips.

As if Katsuki read his mind, he broke the silence. "Stop staring at me."

Izuku flinched and stepped backwards. His mouth flapped open and shut. Katsuki doesn't happen to have a secondary quirk with eyes at the back of his head, right?

"I-I'm not staring," he retorted back a moment too late.

"Could've fooled me," Katsuki shot back. "You think too loud."

Izuku smacked his hands over his mouth, embarrassed.

"No, you weren't mumbling again, idiot." The man shook his head, amused. "You're just predictable."

Izuku must have forgotten to drink another shot of espresso because he almost believed Katsuki sounded a touch fond when he mocked him. A comfortable, overlaying silence took over, but it wasn't completely silent. Beyond these giant doors, the wedding guests took their seats and murmured amongst themselves, exchanging rumors and whatnot as they waited for the procession to start. The orchestra were tuning their instruments and created an asynchronous mesh of different sounds. Some were softly practicing in the background, ready to get lost in the music and give Izuku and Katsuki an extravagant entrance.

"Nervous?" Izuku asked rhetorically.

"No."

"You're not?"

"Why should I?" If Katsuki wasn't blindfolded, he would have cocked an eyebrow. "It's just a wedding."

 _Exactly_. That was the main reason why Izuku himself was nervous. How could Katsuki _not_ be nervous? Everything felt like a fever dream, and Izuku was only here for the ride, waiting for it to end and wake up.

Katsuki was bold, which is why he also said, "I have nothing to fear. All the people I care about are already here."

Izuku lowered his eyes and felt like he fell short, ashamed of the pang of envy that resided within him. He shouldn't be this way. He should be happy for Katsuki.

He licked his lips. "That was very mature of you."

"Hah?" Katsuki latched onto that. "You think I can't be mature or something?"

Izuku paled.

"What? No!" he exclaimed, and then winced, now that he understood how even _that_ could have been misinterpreted as ridicule. "You're very mature," he recovered from his slip. "The most independent person I ever met. You take charge and don't let your words speak for your character." He continued to ramble. "For instance, there was that one time when the council still discussed over the food surplus we had over the harvest season. They took so many days arguing over the routes until you got sick of it and dispatched a group of experts who actually understood the topography and the market and-"

"Oi!" Katsuki growled. "I didn't ask for a list of my accomplishments, Deku." His fingers twitched erratically.

"Ah, you're right. Um."

"Seriously." If Katsuki could, he would have rolled his eyes. "Has anyone ever put duct tape on your mouth?"

Izuku blinked. It was supposed to be a joke. He knew that. He was going to say yes, but after a review of his childhood, not yet. Most of the time, the children would bully him like pushing him into a bale of hay, or worse, splatter mud or dung into his mouth to force him to shut up.

"Surprisingly," he drew out as he attempted to remember once more. "No."

Honestly, he expected Katsuki to degrade him for being such a chatterbox. After all, people had their limits with people like himself, but Katsuki must have heard how his voice went funny when he answered his question.

"Maybe I can be the first one," Katsuki teased. "With green duct tape."

Izuku crooked his lips. "Why that specific color?"

"Are you for real? Most of your wardrobe is green. You're like a stalk of broccoli with-"

Katsuki gestured in Izuku's general vicinity with some odd hand movements. "All of you," he finished.

"Point taken," said Izuku. "Sure, you can be the first…" He paused, "… If you can actually reach me." To demonstrate, he stepped out of range.

This nerd was so dead once Katsuki ripped out this blindfold and throttled him. "Why you-"

Someone, or more correctly, some people intruded upon them. "Whoa there. Save the flirting for later."

The two snapped their heads to the newcomers.

"Kirishima-kun," Izuku said. "Kaminari-kun."

"The one and only," the redhead said with a sharp grin. Their light atmosphere was infectious, but it was choked to death instantly once Katsuki spoke.

"Get inside," Katsuki ordered them with venom. He doesn't return his friends with a greeting, not even a scathing remark.

This may be his wedding day, but he was not so forgiving, especially when it was about what he stumbled into two hours prior. Kirishima and Kaminari sensed his murderous intent and laughed nervously. If they wanted to live to see another day, they should stop poking the bear with the stick.

"Y-yeah," Kirishima said. "We should."

"Mhm, mhm," Kaminari skittered around Katsuki as if the man could pinpoint his location, which he could, and blast him with a Howitzer Impact. "See you inside," he said hurriedly.

But of course, he was not truly Kaminari if he didn't say, "You look hot by the way."

To feed into Izuku's horror, he whistled with, get this, finger guns. Kirishima gasped and dragged his lover inside before he tested Katsuki any further, which was the best idea he had all weekend.

Izuku wondered where their parents were. They should have predicted that leaving them alone like this was a bad idea.

If Katsuki had the freedom to do so, he would have slid his palm across his face and rub his temples to ease the impending headache. He was so tempted to do that.

"What possessed me to make one of those idiots my best man?" he lamented to himself. To think, he was actually conflicted over choosing which one was more suited for the role.

Izuku shrugged. He will admit; their dynamic was kind of funny. "I don't know. They're your idiots."

"Shut up," he grumbled.

Yeah, they were, and he loved them despite their dumbass selves. Izuku laughed.

Katsuki then asked him, "You remember what to do, right?"

Izuku made a consenting sound. "Yup!" He proceeded to list off the steps promptly. "After our parents unwrap the blindfolds and the officiant speak a few words, I say my wedding vows." He numbered off the next finger. "Next, you say yours, and we hold eye contact for five seconds to give everyone the illusion we are eye fucking."

"Good."

"Finally, when we exchange the rings and wear it around our necks," Izuku said dryly, "Our marriage would be official, and from there, we give each other a peck on the lips."

Katsuki grimaced at the ending, but it is what it is. Some sacrifices had to be made for publicity. Izuku, the bleeding heart that he is, wanted to tweak the plans and give each other a peck on the cheek since he remembered Katsuki's distaste. Sure, that would have been adorable, and the fangirls would have eaten it up like candy, but Katsuki was no chicken. He doesn't fear a simple kiss. Everybody expected a full-blown kiss at a wedding, so he told himself to suck it up, just like every other intimate, romantic gesture he'd done with Izuku.

Eventually their parents returned from their break, making excuses about how they lost their way or had to powder their faces. Izuku glanced at Katsuki and could tell how badly the man wanted to call bullshit, but before he realized it, the ceremony was just beginning. A chorus of people began to stand, and the organ blared out the first note, followed by a melodious tune and a choir that sounded like angels.

"It's time," Mitsuki said.

Chills went up Izuku's spine as he watched Katsuki's parents stepped to their son's appointed side, looking at each other with such pride and familial love. It was a fierce, enveloping love, one that had it faults and successes, one that created Katsuki into the man he was today. Inko was about to put on his blindfold, right as the doors opened, flooding in bright, heavenly light. The last image he saw was of Katsuki's back, ramrod straight, while his cape billowed beautifully behind him, and then, in a flash, Izuku saw no longer. His mother tightened the knot, taking away his sense of sight.

Even though he was deprived of seeing Katsuki trail down the aisle, striking everyone with his presence, Izuku could envision it. He could envision his devastating beauty, the way he grasped their attention and kept it there for hours upon hours, for there was never a time Katsuki wasn't mesmerizing to watch.

"Izuku, honey."

Izuku's ears perked to his mother's tremulous voice.

"Yes, mom?" he asked, concerned. He blindly reached out for her cheeks and pressed against soft, wet skin. "What's wrong?" he said in a hushed voice.

There was a short sniffle until Toshinori offered her his handkerchief. "Are you happy?" The sniffling got louder as she watched her baby grew into a man, as he grew from little Izuku into someone who was going to get married in less than an hour. "Are you truly happy?"

Izuku was taken aback by the timing of her question, but he recovered quickly and gave her a smile. He swallowed his feelings down his throat. It was just for show.

"Of course," he reassured her, wiping away the remaining tears with his gloved thumb. "I'm the happiest man in the world."

He pulled her in, his lips brushing against her forehead with a kind and gentle love, fulfilling and sweet like honeydew.

In a similar fashion like Masaru, Toshinori patted his back, his bony fingers encouraging Izuku to move forward. "It's time, young man."

Emboldened by his mentor's words, Izuku took that first step, as if it was just yesterday when the knight offered him the quirk of a lifetime. Izuku was full of secrets, and One for All was another one in his vault.

Happiness. What a strange concept.

Happiness always felt unattainable to him.

His father was a dick. Ever since the vile man realized that his ninth child was a quirkless runt and therefore obsolete to his future, he abandoned Inko and her son and threw them to the slums to rot forever. Some said she was lucky for escaping persecution.

In a time where war approached like a virus across the kingdom, Izuku grew up with overblown dreams. The adults and children were cruel, trampling on his dreams to become a knight as if they were fallen leaves, stomping on them mercilessly until Izuku cried his heart out, but it was his goal to become a knight that pushed him to risk his life to save a dying man and gained Toshinori's blessings. It was his goal to become a knight that made him short-sighted to the horrors of war.

He was naïve. He thought he could achieve happiness once he inherited One for All, but nothing changed. Izuku was still useless. Izuku was still dead weight. Disarming a colleague was different from taking a life.

His first kill with his quirk, a kill that didn't warrant self-defense, a kill that was meant for war and war only, haunted him and fed into his train of guilt. The man was a soldier close to his age, who moaned for his mother and suffered from broken bones and a puncture lung. Izuku threw up when he did the finishing blow, smashed him into oblivion until a hole was left in his gut. Izuku hurled out his meal from the night before, emptied out his stomach until all that remained was a heaving, wretched mess of a human.

He never even knew the kid's name, his age, or his aspirations.

He knew he could do this for the rest of the war, fighting a fight that his father started and exacerbated. He knew he could, but he couldn't. Not like this. Never like this.

He wanted to save people, but not like this. He wanted to help in the war effort, but not like this.

In the end, it was too tiring to strive for happiness. He could barely keep his head floating above the surface.

He doesn't know when he stopped moving because he was on automatic pilot pondering over his thoughts. He doesn't even register his parents slipping off his blindfold until he was captured in Katsuki's gaze. As expected, the officiant addressed the couple of their roles, the duties that they would do together as one being, one whole. Izuku muted his words. Katsuki's eyes were trying to convey him something, and Izuku furrowed his brows, unable to translate the messages beneath his stares. His eyes strayed away from his and redirected towards the audience. Without Izuku's notice, he followed his gaze and went after its path.

Curious, he wondered who Katsuki was looking at, his eyes skimming over the guests, but he doesn't have to speculate any longer, for he reached his answer.

There, he saw him. There, he sat near the back. Iida was here, cleanly shaven and dressed in ordinary wear. Well, for Izuku's standards, he was still wearing formal wear, but Iida would have worn his emblem and silver-plated armor to an event like this. However, he wasn't here as his best man or as Tenya from the esteemed Iida family. No, he was here for a reason more trivial than that.

Here, he came as a supportive friend.

Well, Izuku was not entirely sure to be quite honest, but judging by the glimmer in Katsuki's eyes, which Izuku confirmed was not due to the eyeshadow on his eyelids, he wasn't hallucinating.

Iida was here. Oh god, Iida was here.

This shouldn't have shocked him. Iida always pulled through to the end, which was one of his admirable traits, but Izuku was so laden by his troubles, it broke a dam. The tear ducts came and did its job. Tears slid down his freckled cheeks, catching everyone, including Katsuki, by surprise. Aoyama had the foresight to apply waterproof makeup, but even the sturdiest mixture couldn't cover up the snot, the tears, and the ugly noises that came from his mouth. His face reddened from embarrassment.

What was he doing, ruining this in one go?

The officiant looked perplexed, for he doesn't want to heckle the prince to perform his vows when he was soaking the carpet with the river that flowed from his eyes.

Izuku attempted to pull himself together. He had to. He must. He had to prove himself, to everybody, that he was more than a foolish man with a foolish heart and foolish dreams.

Long ago, a woman called him an imbecile for his desire to save. "Go ahead and save them," she scorned him, "Save all the people in the world, for all I care. But then," she stabbed his chest, "Who is going to save you?"

That answer was easy. Whether it was from himself or other foes, Izuku would do it by himself. He had to. He must.

"Midoriya?" the officiant called out his name amidst the confusion.

Izuku steeled himself. "It's okay," he hiccupped, his lips forming into a smile, baring his teeth to demonstrate his joy. He pushed down whatever was lodged in his throat. He could do this. He had to. He must.

"I'm just so hap-"

"Hey."

Izuku stopped and blinked away more tears. Katsuki watched him gravely like a vulture waiting for its prey to breathe its last. Izuku paled. Oh no, he must have disappointed him again, but of course he would. Izuku was going off the script.

"Hey," Katsuki repeated and reached out, his hands grabbing his.

An apology bubbled in Izuku's lips. "I'm… I'm…"

He can save this, he panicked, he can fix this, but he wasn't given the chance. Katsuki had already beat him to the punch.

"I'm not good with words," he said and began his vows. "I'm not the best person to get along with." That was the biggest understatement of the year.

If the original script was not working, then a revision was necessary.

"And yet," he said slowly, "I chose you... And you chose me."

Izuku stifled his cries, frustrated by the emotions that poured from his body. It was the least he could do for inconveniencing Katsuki, but said man took none of that shit.

A stormy expression crossed Katsuki's face. His grip tightened, squeezing his fingers and wrinkling the material of his gloves. "Together forever," he echoed their promise.

Now another layer was added to that promise.

"And someday," he said, his neck taut with fear. He feared of the unknown. "Someday we'll look back at this and laugh."

Izuku doesn't know how, but he must have cried harder, his lip quivering from the hope bundled in his chest.

"Someday, I don't know," Katsuki looked like he might tear up, too. "Someday we'll grow old. And we'll talk shit over the past as we sip on jasmine tea and eat those overly sweet pastries like regular old people."

Izuku had to laugh at the ridiculous notion. Katsuki doesn't even like eating sugar in general.

"Doesn't that sound marvelous?"

Izuku nodded.

"This is my promise. This is my vow. Now Deku, what is yours?"

Everything was a blur after that. Izuku wished he came out on top and improvised a beautiful vow like that, but he recited the vows he recited day and night, the vows he practiced so much until he could do it in his sleep.

That was fine because now they were officially husbands, together and bonded until the end of time, exchanging the rings with a lighter load in their hearts. People, as usual, hooted for them to kiss, teasing them incessantly until their lips melded together.

After a long day, Katsuki doesn't know what overcame him, but all he knew was that he was sick of the expectations, of following the script when it already burned to the ground and left him scraps to work with. Maybe he wanted happiness for his own sake as well. No, he will not kiss Izuku's lips. He doesn't want to, and Izuku doesn't want him to force himself into something he doesn't want.

He kneeled, lacing his fingers with Izuku's and dared him to challenge him. Izuku had no qualms about it and gave him his permission. Many assumed he was going the gentlemanly route and leave an innocent kiss on the back of his hand, but then they were confused as he overturned it and laid his lips upon Izuku's palm.

The inquiries grew louder, but the two ignored them as Katsuki's lips lingered. This was Izuku and Katsuki. This was how they worked, and from that day on, they were married, together forever, whether they knew it or not.

A powerful emotion surged within Izuku, a moment that left him vulnerable and raw, but lest did he know, it was a feeling called happiness.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I would like to thank my niece for drawing my OC.**

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Katsuki asked. "It's creepy."

Izuku placed his hand on the small of his back and dipped him.

The events after Katsuki's bold move were hazy. All Izuku remembered were camera flashes and strained smiles, his muscles tired from showing his pearly whites for over thirty minutes. Katsuki was in the same boat, the corners of his mouth twitching from overexertion. He claimed that if he saw another goddamn photographer asking them to smile for the camera one more time, he would have attacked the poor sucker. What's worse is that Izuku would have joined him.

Afterwards, they were knocked out in a heartbeat when they stepped foot into the limo, their bones melting into jelly. They groaned together as they listlessly changed their clothes for the reception, and here they were, dragging their bodies to the first dance. Not even the upbeat music and the endless shots of alcohol could perk them up. They wished their honeymoon came sooner rather than later.

"I'm not smiling," Izuku retorted back and tried to look strait-laced. He failed.

The men swayed along to the music until the song ended, but Katsuki asked for another dance. The daunting task of visiting each table, celebrating with the guests as they clanged their glasses and utensils, and taking a shot once they received their gifts, was considerably too much for his plate at the moment. Izuku agreed, his arms tightening around Katsuki's neck as they switched roles. So much human interaction. So little time.

"So in love," Uraraka remarked as she nursed her frozen strawberry margarita and took another ample sip.

She savored and relished the salty, sweet, and sour flavor of her drink on her tongue. The temptation to order a stronger drink from the bar was great, but that was unadvisable since she promised to talk with Iida after the reception. Though he attended the ceremony, the reception was another matter. Even though he compromised in the beginning, he could not fully compromise in his beliefs. Before he left Izuku in matrimonial bliss, he went to Uraraka next with a perplexed face marring his usual stoic look. He opened his mouth but was too tongue-tied to articulate his thoughts, to form a decent discussion with her without breaking more hearts.

"We should talk later," she initiated and held his hands, gripped them tight until Iida had to let go.

His hands were large, comforting. They managed to envelop hers, but she backtracked and clenched her jaw before she got distracted and seduced. This was not the time to be moon-eyed.

"There is much left unsaid," she whispered.

Iida nodded curtly, his bangs moving wistfully across his eyes.

"I'll wait for you... Tonight," he said and leaned close.

Uraraka closed her eyes, anticipating his lips brushing against her hair. Iida hurt her heart, but he didn't split them apart forever. They can mend this. She was sure of it.

Uraraka ached, wishing to spill her feelings and take the dive, but she lost the opportunity as Iida finally let go. He went to the gardens as more people came up to Uraraka to talk to her. He was five steps away before he paused, as if he wanted to say more, and fill in the time with parting words, but he got cold feet and moved on. The brunette watched with a stuttering heartbeat.

Therefore, here she was, dateless and morose as one of her closest friends danced with his husband with galaxies in his eyes and constellations on his cheeks. The glitter at the corners of his eyes made his face look like a radiant map of space. Uraraka sighed. She knew better than to be envious, but Izuku was so in love, his laugh ringing across the dance floor as Katsuki dipped him low, that Uraraka wanted a taste of the giddiness that infected Izuku's every being.

Women and men alike squealed when the two finished the dance with Katsuki cradling his husband's face, eyes crinkled soft and colored like gold under the string lights. He spun and twirled Izuku until his back laid against his chest. Izuku looked warm and cozy like that, wrapped around his husband's arms. The blond bent his neck to whisper into his ear, most likely sweet nothings and heated words. Nobody knew that he simply told Izuku to commence the plan.

Katsuki side-lunged as Izuku shifted his weight, extended his right leg, and paralleled his body with Katsuki's. They made a beautiful dip with matching smiles, and once they went back into position, Katsuki cradled his husband's face and finally closed in to meld their lips into one. The kiss was one that took longer than what was considered publicly appropriate to the point that a couple bystanders had to shield their eyes. Uraraka felt her face turn hot at the display. Unbeknownst to the crowd and Uraraka, Katsuki took used his thumb to cover Izuku's lips and cradled his face as a disguise. The dim lighting and their bangs worked well in their favor.

Indeed, people were gullible.

A woman with unruly short hair and pink skin waltzed to Uraraka's table and plopped into the seat next to hers. She looked pretty and energetic in her cute strapless party dress. Her hands grabbed the nearest glass and poured herself a drink that filled to the brim.

"Hello there!" she introduced herself, the yellow irises of her eyes sparkling like apple cider. "My name is Ashido Mina!"

Uraraka had no time to ponder if it was the alcohol that gave this woman a boost in personality because she immediately took her hand and enthusiastically shook it with a strong grip, rattling her arm until she settled for her drink and rocking in her chair.

"Hello," Uraraka greeted back out of obligation.

She looked beyond Ashido's shoulder in hopes of capturing a friend's eyes as a call for help, but to her dismay, they were all either stupidly drunk or gorged on the platters laid before them. A strained smile was put into place. Typically, she would have loved interacting with strangers and creating new bonds, forging relationships with one person at a time. After all, that was one of the main reasons why Izuku entrusted her with her job to rebuild the infrastructure and traveled all over the region. However, she was worn down from the drama and simply wished to sullenly sip her half-finished margarita.

Fortunately, Ashido busied herself with the leftovers of the table, marveling over the abundance of seafood on the plates. Without breaking a sweat, she cracked open the crab and took out the meat from the shells, feasting upon them like nobody's business.

"Why aren't you eating more?" She asked with a stuffed mouth and pointed a claw in Uraraka's direction. "It's a delicacy to eat some here."

Uraraka turned down the offer. "They are abundant in Esphur," she informed her.

The people of Esphur were geographically advantageous in obtaining crab and other seafood compared to the people of Nethereal, who lived within the mountainous regions. Uraraka was no different from Mina in her humble, first days living in Esphur. When the war ended, she would often hover over the street vendors, salivating over the delicious food they offered. Takoyaki. Grilled squid. Coconut shrimp. You name it. It was like walking down an assembly line of heaven.

Even better, the market price was remarkably cheap. Her eyes would bulge out of their sockets because the prices were at least half of what her hometown demanded.

She was more accustomed to the cuisine, but she still felt overly wealthy whenever she suckled on the shell of a sea snail or peeled a batch of tiger shrimp.

"That makes sense," said Ashido while rocking side to side, happily humming a tune. "I'm real thrilled to meet ya," she admitted. "You're quite famous in these areas."

One of the conditions of the agreement between Izuku and Katsuki was to pardon the individuals who abandoned their post as a soldier to join Izuku's efforts to rescue and save the injured, women, and children.

"I'm not," Uraraka denied.

She was nothing special. She was only a girl, a girl who was conscripted to the army and volunteered to fight in her parents' stead. Yet, she was also the same girl who Midoriya Izuku saved on that fateful day as the rubble of someone's cement quirk collapsed on her leg, rendering her useless. Izuku saved her life, and it was a life she was willing to dedicate for the greater good.

"Many would disagree," Ashido rebutted. "You are a woman of many accomplishments."

Uraraka was about to protest, but Ashido would have none of that.

"Your work during the war speaks for itself," she said. "Ever since you finished your training with Gunhead," she added while making some punching movements to demonstrate her point, "You decided to teach other women armed combat and held classes."

A post-war world was a dangerous place because even though the war ended on paper, the reality was not as black and white.

"You have so much under your belt," Ashido continued her praise. "Not to mention your current projects!" she exclaimed with arms spread wide.

Uraraka's largest endeavor as of late was the restoration of Esphur's infrastructure with an emphasis on roads and cleanup.

"Yes, I have been busy," the brunette flushed, the red inking into her cheeks. "But work has been slow," she sighed. "We would attract some troublesome pests who vandalized the equipment or threaten us for invading their land whenever we get close to the border."

"The audacity!" Ashido gasped. The legs of the table shook when she slammed her hands against the tabletop.

Uraraka waved her hand to appease her new companion. Ever since a person attempted to breach their facilities, security tightened like a vice grip. The roadwork progressed faster than ever.

"It's to be expected. It may even take a lifetime to mend the tensions between our people," she paused. Years of fighting were ingrained into their memories, and for some like Uraraka, they were a staple of their childhood. "But I have hope," she said. "We move forward; we grow. We learn from our mistakes and teach the future generation of our misgivings," she said with such conviction, Ashido could almost envision the woman's hope, "And from there," she leaned closer, close enough for the pink woman to see the mascara on her eyelashes, "We can achieve peace."

Ashido felt shivers. Her veins were on fire. If her hands weren't so sticky from the crab juices and innards, she would have clapped herself silly.

"You're-"

Another voice joined in. "You're incredible!"

Uraraka and Ashido stiffened from the sudden outburst and turned their head to a woman who was about Uraraka's height. A stranger with dark violet hair put into a cute donut bun atop her head interrupted them without a presence. She wore daisy-themed jewelry, her necklace and earrings sparkling beneath the lights. From a distance, she seemed to wear a black trouser suit even though it was more accurate to say it was a rich dark navy color. Her blazer accentuated her stocky figure, capturing her broad shoulders in a nicely trimmed fashion.

"Hello!"

She shoveled herself in like a bulldozer and shook Uraraka's hand with a congenial temperament. Her touch was cold but firm. Uraraka lowered her eyes and saw a sleek black prosthetic hand.

"Never seen a hand before?" the woman teased with a cheeky grin.

Uraraka shook from her stupor and retracted her hand immediately. She stumbled over her words, embarrassed for her rudeness.

She bowed. "I apologize! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable!"

A short laugh left the stranger's mouth. "No need to be formal," she responded brightly. A smile, big and wide, took up most of her face.

She allowed the subject to drop and then asked, "If you don't mind me asking," she said as her hand whirled and pointed at both Uraraka and Ashido, "Are you friends of the grooms?"

Before the two women got the chance to say yes, she appeared to have presumptions and dragged them to the middle of the dance floor even though they didn't give her a proper answer. A ring of wedding-goers stood there as well, befuddled and confused.

"Alright! I got the rest of them!" she shouted out of nowhere.

That was the cue.

Green and orange sparklers erupted at the corners, startling everyone in the reception room. Aoyama dangled from the ceiling and was ready to bedazzle the world with his shine. He struck himself into a brilliant pose, for he was always one for theatrics. The guests saw the mirror ball device placed upon his navel, but they didn't have time to inspect it as smoke seeped from the ground. Aoyama then used his quirk, his laser beam refracting into rainbow beams of light. The crowd gawked at the light show as dancers joined and shook their hips to the beat of the music playing in the background. Many were too stunned to join along.

There, at the center of the hazy smoke, a lone figure appeared from the center. Kaminari came from the shadows and introduced himself with a microphone in hand. An electrifying aura filled the air. He projected his voice.

"What's up everyone?! Are we having a good time?!"

Caught up in the mood, people cheered. After all, most of them came for the free alcohol and food.

"Let's have even more fun with a game!" Kaminari shouted. "These boys had it too easy for too long! It's about time we spice it up!"

Kaminari's thumb was erected towards the lovely couple. Izuku shyly waved back with an exasperated Katsuki covering his face. They clung onto each other, as if they knew that once they were separated, they would be fed to the wolves. Surrounding individuals hooted and catcalled them as they stiffly stepped closer.

"And that's where I come in!" The outgoing woman from earlier made her reappearance.

She plucked the microphone from Kaminari's hands with a short word of thanks and continued on. "My name is Kariru Koe, and today we are going to play a game called 'Love is Blind'!"

For a woman with a small mouth, her voice was crisp and clear.

"My quirk is necessary for this game," she explained. "Allow me to demonstrate," she said and hopped over to Katsuki's side with a giggle, "With this volunteer right here."

"Oi," he protested. "No way you're touching me, Bushy Brows."

Kariru took this in stride, unbothered by the rude nickname. Rather, she sidled closer, unperturbed even though Katsuki glared daggers.

"Aw, don't be like that," she patted him. "It's funny, isn't it? The situation's reversed," she joked with him slyly.

Izuku watched the exchange and tilted his head. He got the overall gist of who Katsuki considered as his friends or extras, but he never heard of her. He doesn't recognize her name, and yet Katsuki gave her a nickname, a benign one at that. He must have deemed her important enough for the woman to earn a nickname. However, he had no time to ponder over the depth of their relationship once she returned the microphone to Kaminari.

Kaminari then took the reins. "Kariru's quirk is called 'Voice for All'. She has to keep her mouth shut and can't make a sound whenever she activates her quirk."

Kariru nodded and made zipping noises next to her mouth to prove his point. Before Kaminari spoke again, she touched his shoulder, and when he continued to describe her quirk, the people ended up astonished. They couldn't believe their ears.

Katsuki, the man himself, stood still and silent, but his voice permeated the entire room.

"As you can see," Kaminari said with an amused tone, "Whoever she touches after the first person, will have that person's voice until she makes a sound. "

Katsuki clicked his tongue and folded his arms, familiar with this procedure. Izuku was glued to the floor, enamored by this showcase of Kariru's quirk, his fingers twitching impatiently as his eyes searched for a stray napkin and pen. He was so hellbent on jotting down a few lines of notes, he missed what was happening in his surroundings.

In the meantime, Kariru worked her magic, tapping every individual who was standing within the circle, including Uraraka and Ashido. After they were touched, the crowd became a clamoring mass, spewing and defiling Katsuki's voice in every chance possible.

One brave Sero Hanta even shouted, "My name is Bakugou Katsuki, and I'm a Bakubitch!"

"Say that again, Tape Face, or I'll kill ya!" Kirishima responded in turn with a toothy grin.

They were unable to participate in the first round when Katsuki grabbed their shoulders with a demonic smile, trapping them with his firm grip. Nobody heard from them for ten minutes ever since the blond dragged them outside for a fun little chat. Whenever anybody asked them about what transpired, they would immediately turn green and excused themselves to the men's room.

The discord that took place was quite entertaining to the green-haired prince. He even laughed at one bout when Todoroki performed the worst impression of Katsuki, straitlaced and indifferent, that he loved IcyHot like a friend.

Katsuki almost succeeded in killing him, too, if it wasn't for Kaminari's intervention. They have been delayed long enough.

"Alright! Back to the game!" he said.

He purposefully kicked Katsuki's shin since he was the main cause of their holdups. Katsuki huffed in resignation, clearly not regretting his decision to kill Sero and Kirishima.

Izuku was brought to the middle of the circle blindfolded and was led there by Kariru. She pushed against his shoulders, and the man blindly reached out in front of him in fear of bumping into other persons.

Kaminari took Izuku out of Kariru's hands and told him, "Okay, Midoriya, don't panic. This is Kaminari here. Remember me?"

Izuku nodded. He was disoriented at first since he still had Katsuki's voice, but Katsuki would never hold him in such an imposing way. It felt weird, to be honest. His ears told him that it was Kacchan, but his body and heart told him otherwise.

"Good," Kaminari patted his back. He returned back to the players. "So here's the objective. You guys say whatever you want to Midoriya, distract him by any means possible."

The group murmured amongst themselves, a couple wearing devilish grins with plans to abuse Katsuki's voice even more.

"The goal of this game is for his dear, loving husband," Kaminari smugly pointed out the skulking Katsuki next to Mina at the back, "To try to call him into his arms. The rules are easy. You can't touch Midoriya as he tries to look for his husband."

That was valid. That would have been cheating.

"The other rule is that Bakubro can't say anything too specific or obvious. For example, he can't talk about a memory only they would know."

Again, valid. Katsuki had to work harder to win his man.

"Midoriya will have five minutes to choose," Kaminari said lastly. "Are you ready yet?"

He gave everybody a few minutes to get settled. Once the noise died down, and he had their absolute attention, he commenced the game with a loud, "START!"

Katsuki's voice exploded in the room from all directions.

"Deku," one moaned. "Smash me into oblivion."

"Who said that?! I'll fucking destroy you!" the real Katsuki screeched.

"If you thought my quirk was explosive, wait until you see what's underneath my pants."

"I swear to God," Katsuki activated his quirk, "When I find you, I will tear you limb from limb and I'LL-"

Kaminari actually gave him a final warning to behave, or he would be disqualified, which doesn't make sense since he was a key player. However, Katsuki toned down a bit from the dramatics.

A random guy screamed, "Shitty Deku! You think _they're_ the real me?! In their fucking dreams!"

Katsuki had to admit. That person had the best chance out of all of these losers.

Overstimulated from the uproarious noise and chaos unfolding before him, Izuku stood there, flabbergasted. This was beyond him.

"Deku. I love you. Your quirk's cool, I guess."

"Shut up IcyHot! I know you can do better than that!" Katsuki leapt across bodies to throttle him.

Izuku knew Katsuki was the one responding to all of these atrocities, but he kept drifting from place to place, unable to locate Katsuki with full confidence.

A gentle hand patted him. He jumped.

"Two minutes left, Midoriya," Kaminari reminded him with an encouraging squeeze.

Despite his effort to approach him slowly, Izuku still squeaked from the sudden voice in his ear. He recovered quickly, but the room felt staggering and claustrophobic.

"Um," he walked forward with unsure steps.

A terrible headache was just on the horizon.

"I'll choose…"

He wavered.

His heart wavered.

The voiced blurred together like a swirling mass of incoherency. It felt weird, as if someone spun him around and around to the point of being dizzy. It felt like a fog, and nothing, not even headlights, could pierce through it.

A choked sound left his lips. This was silly, wasn't it? Downright hilarious. What was he doing? There was no desperate need to take this game seriously.

Maybe to couples like Kaminari and Kirishima, they would have put in more effort, but Izuku and Katsuki weren't like _that_. If they were in love, sure, he would have fought tooth and nail to pinpoint Katsuki, but for now, with the way they are, it would have been all for naught.

And then Izuku would have been a laughingstock. He doesn't know why he would be a laughingstock, but he felt weird, pitiful even, for trying his best in this game. There was nothing to gain here besides making a fool of himself. After all, Katsuki was probably out there keeping his lips shut besides snarking at the other participants of the game.

This game wasn't meaningful to them whatsoever. There was no need for a game to test their feelings for each other when there was nothing there. They weren't in love. There was nothing special between Izuku and Katsuki besides their stupid nicknames.

Izuku felt better once he resolidified those feelings. That's right. They were barely anything to each other. They just got acquainted as friends. That's right. Izuku was just at the starting point of... of whatever this was.

He doesn't have dwell upon these pessimistic feelings. He was fine. He was alright. He was good.

"Deku, hey, Deku."

There it was again. That nickname, he thought with an edge of bitterness. This nickname had no meaning either. There was no history for its creation, no adorable childhood relevance. To his memory, Katsuki only made it at the heat of the moment when he saw Izuku stumbled over a simple task. It was only a dumb nickname made on the spot.

"Deku, can you listen to me?" The voice seemed concerned. "Deku."

Deku, Deku, Deku. Defenseless. Discarded. Useless. He knew he was all of that and more.

"What?" Izuku snapped.

His voice was low and irritated. It wasn't loud enough to overpower the overall volume of the room, so his crabby response went by unnoticed. Unnoticed by all, except for one.

Izuku froze, appalled by his apparent rudeness. He was driven to the brink, nettled by the events of today, but that was no excuse to ruin anybody's fun. He deflated and sighed into his hands. He couldn't believe he treated one of the wedding guests with such disrespect. He wasn't like this on a daily basis.

"I apologize for my behavior," he said. He felt drained.

Izuku wouldn't be surprised if the other person left him alone for being such an ass.

"You should count to ten," the voice suggested.

Izuku held his breath.

"… Excuse me?"

Izuku blocked out everything, even the weirdo who was using Katsuki's voice to sing, "Two bros chillin' in the hot tub, five feet apart cause they're not gay."

That doesn't hold a candle to this person telling Izuku to count to ten.

"Do it," the person told him. "I heard it's good for you when you're thinking too much."

What an incredibly drab response.

Izuku paused.

For once in this reception, he felt a feeling that wasn't dread.

Then, the most amazing thing happened, surprising himself and the man in front of him. He doesn't know where he had to energy to do it, but here he was, shaking to the bone. A small laugh spilled from his lips, light as a feather but strong enough to blow away the stress weighted upon him. The laugh built up from its foundation until it made him wheeze with a few stray tears at the corner of his eyes.

"You cheater," he accused dryly, once he composed himself. "Didn't you hear the rules? You can't say anything too specific."

"Cheater?" the other attempted to sound coy. "There's no cheater here. Only a stranger asking you to count to ten."

Izuku had to admit. That was a damn good rebuttal, one that Izuku doesn't have the capacity to refute.

"You got me there."

He doesn't remember why he was anxious in the beginning, but he shrugged it off. He guessed he had some counting to do.

"One…" he started, his tongue poking out of his teeth. Incredible. Here he was, in the midst of a reception game, counting to ten like a wee toddler.

"Remember to take deep breaths."

Izuku snorted. "Or what? I'll choke on the next number?"

"Shut up, nerd, and just count."

After all these months of living together, Izuku still can't get a good read on him. Maybe he never will. How dare he do this, going the extra mile and come out of his way to help him relax?

"You're amazing," he said, soft and unbidden.

"Really? How can you be sure? For all you know, this could be our first meeting."

Izuku wished he could roll his eyes or tell the man to take the damn compliment, but he never got the chance.

Kaminari proceeded to end the game and bellowed out, "TIME!"

Five minutes have passed. Izuku didn't choose, and therefore lost by default.

Izuku lost. He lost, but for some inexplicable reason, he doesn't feel like a loser.

Kaminari clapped his shoulder and unwrapped his blindfold with deft and nimble hands, practiced and automatic. He patted his head, messing up his curls more than usual.

"Better luck next time, Midoriya," Kaminari consoled him in a laidback gesture.

"It's a pretty difficult game," Izuku acknowledged ruefully. "I'll try harder next time."

"It is, isn't it?!" Kariru intervened and went into his space.

She got so close, he got an eyeful of her so-called bushy brows. "The idea cropped up when Kaminari-san and I were drinking out one night. I'm so glad you liked it!"

Izuku wondered if Kariru was this enthusiastic naturally or had the help of caffeine to boost her energy reserves. The effects of her quirk were dispelled ever since she opened her mouth and uttered a few words. The voice the players borrowed was gone. Some were disappointed to lose the ability to speak in Katsuki's tongue so soon, but now it was Izuku's turn.

Green eyes scoured across the crowd, searching for any trace of blond, spiky hair and a pair of striking red eyes. Izuku found him right before Kaminari dragged him to the center, standing next to Todoroki with a belligerent expression. There always seemed to be some tactile tension between them. Izuku wrote it off as the rivalry between two prospective rulers of their respective kingdoms, but whatever was taking place at the moment, it was more than that. He wanted to engage with them, to check what trouble was brewing, but Kaminari took Katsuki away from Todoroki's side. He gave his close friend the same treatment as Izuku, putting him smack dab in the middle blindfolded.

He reviewed the rules once more for the new arrivals, and with a light touch from Kariru, the game was set.

"START!" Kaminari shouted, instigating the game.

There were less hijinks since most people got it out of their system with Katsuki's voice, but there were still some who blathered and blabbed, testing out Izuku's vocal range and whatnot. Half of the group gave up trying to seduce Katsuki to come in their direction. He was a tough cookie to crack.

He stood there, cross-armed.

Izuku held his thumb to his lips, mumbling up a storm as he devised ways to lure Katsuki to him. There were obstacles in his wake, namely Katsuki's obstinance to move from his spot.

"If I call Kacchan to come here," he bit his lower lip in contemplation, "He would probably ignore me." He scratched and ruffled his hair, even deeper in thought. "Maybe I can sing a song? Would he be able to recognize my terrible pitch?"

Nearby participants sidestepped away from the prince, leaving him to his devices. There was some sort of frenzied, fanatical countenance in him that made people avoid him like the plague. Perhaps it was the quick, practiced way he spoke under his breath or the dark, gloomy shadow covering his face. Regardless, it looked creepy as fuck.

Izuku slammed his fist into his palm. "Ah! But that wouldn't be obvious enough. I wouldn't sing for no reason."

As a result, he ruled that option out. Back to square one.

"I wish I could list his favorite foods or his routine, but that would be cheating." Wrinkles appeared at that space between his brows. He was stumped. "It would have been nice if we shared terms of endearment or something special. This game would have been a cinch."

He huffed. This was beginning to get under his skin, a challenge that fired his insides.

"But what else can I do?" he groaned to himself. "Play a game of 'Marco Polo'? Would Kacchan even participate?"

No, he definitely wouldn't.

Izuku's hair was the consistency of an untrimmed bush. Izuku combed his hair so much that the gel's work was becoming undone. Could you blame him? He was running out of options.

"How much time do I have left?" he panicked. "How much time did I waste? I shouldn't be here talking to myself. I should be saying something to him, like-like-"

A hand plopped on top of his head.

Katsuki's smug voice filtered into his mind. "Like how I'm a better player than you?"

Something lodged its way into Izuku's throat. He stopped, his mind reeling from the warmth radiating from Katsuki's palm and noticed his surroundings. People were at least five feet away from him, giving Katsuki the perfect path.

"Like I said," Katsuki said as he removed his blindfold. "You always think too loud."

Izuku smiled shyly, feeling a bit self-conscious. He always got chastised for this bad habit of his.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered. "I should stop doing that…"

Katsuki clicked his tongue and looked off to Kaminari's direction. The goofball was jumping up and down like a child, cheering in Katsuki's stead.

"Never said you should stop," he said. It was too quiet for anybody to eavesdrop, but loud enough for Izuku to hear. "Just stating a fact."

Katsuki sighed. Afterwards, the DJ cranked up the music as some filtered into the dance floor and showed off their dance moves. They got a break, and thought it was a short reprieve, Katsuki would take advantage of it. Knowing his sparky friend, Kaminari got more in store for the happily wedded couple.

The game torture had just begun.

They should stock up on their stamina.

Katsuki turned his way back to Izuku, who continued to stare at him like a dead fish. He doesn't know if that was endearing or stupid. He decided to call it both. Without warning, he flicked Izuku's forehead and managed to get a reaction from his scatterbrained husband. He'll get off the hook this time since the wedding ceremony and festivities probably leeched his ability to think.

"Let's go, nerd."

Katsuki kept his hand to his side, flexing his fingers to prevent himself from ruffling Izuku's hair. Normally, his forest green hair would have been conditioned and fluffy, soft and silky to the touch. However, with all the chemicals and products the hairdressers used, they ruined its texture and left it more matted and sticky. Katsuki disliked that feeling.

"We can survive a couple more hours of this shitfest," he said.

Well, second best was Izuku's hand, which was cooler and drier than his. He took it and head towards their table where than can scarf down more food before the torture commenced.

Izuku nodded, dazed. He combed his hair back one last time, slower and more meticulous than before, but this time, it wasn't due to his overworked brain. Rather, it was for a reason more warmer and weirder than his usual rambles. It was on the tip of his tongue. He just doesn't have a name for it yet.

Perhaps he drank too much to feel this buzzed, he reasoned. He should cut back on the alcohol. He doesn't want to stagger to their wedding cake.

"Yeah," he said and followed Katsuki's lead. "Let's do this."


	13. Chapter 13

"You seem very close."

"Hah?! The fuck you spouting about Half n' Half?!"

Katsuki shoved Todoroki away from his vicinity. He doesn't want to get infected by his lack of common sense.

"We're _husbands_ ," Katsuki emphasized, speaking slowly as if he was explaining to a toddler. "Husbands stay close together because they _love_ each other."

Damn, Todoroki was being a real eyesore, questioning him about the details of his relationship with Izuku as if this was another interview he had to surpass. He doesn't try hiding his intentions that he hated the heir to the Todoroki dominion. What a shitty, self-centered monarch, naming a realm after themselves. They were so full of themselves, he wouldn't be surprised if the next heir was named Todoroki.

Todoroki Todoroki. Bah, it sounded so believable, Katsuki refused to dwell on the subject any longer.

"No need to be defensive," Todoroki remarked with a deadpan face. He then said, without batting an eye, "I'm just curious. What made you fall for Midoriya-kun in the first place?"

For an innocent question, Katsuki doesn't like the fixated gaze in his eyes, the way they gauge for his answer. It bristled him.

"What is this?" He lowered to a growl. "I'm not playing Twenty Questions with you. I owe you jack shit."

There he goes again, Mr. High and Mighty demanding explanations as if he was entitled to them. He was like this last time as well, asking Katsuki why he trespassed his territory wearing such ridiculous garments. Well, news flash, Todoroki doesn't deserve everything despite his birthright.

"But we aren't playing Twenty Questions," Todoroki said. He blinked. He thought this was quite obvious. "I only asked you one question."

To anyone other than IcyHot, that would have been straight up sass, but Katsuki knew he did not say it with mean-spiritedness or ill will, which made his response all the more worse.

"That's it," he cracked his knuckles. He doesn't mind duking it out on the dance floor. It's better than being treated like a puppet of the monarchy. "You. Me. Right here, right-"

He was muffled as a hand clamped around his vulgar mouth. He was also taken by surprise as he was tugged backwards by brute strength.

Lilies and jasmine tea wafted in the air, and Katsuki was frozen as Uraraka, the woman he had been avoiding ever since her arrival, grabbed his hand.

"Apologies, Prince Todoroki," she said and crowded into Katsuki's space.

"Uraraka-san," the prince acknowledged her and gave her a curt bow. "It has been a while."

"Indeed," she said with a dainty smile, but the grip on Katsuki's wrist was anything but dainty. "How's Yoarashi-san?" she went for small talk.

Todoroki turned around to glance at his table where his best knight practically inhaled their entrees such passion and vigor, the guests who resided in that table switched in favor of another one. Katsuki often overexaggerated whenever he "murdered" his food, but Yoarashi decimated their table in one fell swoop, his belly inflated to maximum capacity.

Todoroki glanced at his table where his knight was practically inhaling the entrees with such passion, everybody left their table in favor of a different one.

"Good," he said with a hint of a smile. "He is overbearing, but I'm afraid I have gotten acquainted with his rambunctiousness."

For a complaint, he doesn't sound unhappy with his knight, which eased her beginning concerns of the duo she met two years ago. Even up to this day she was flabbergasted over why Todoroki allowed him to stand by his side since Yoarashi hated his guts, but whatever. What mattered is that their relationship was loads better, and that was necessary in this turbulent world where coups were after his princely neck.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she pressed deep into the tendons of Katsuki's wrist. He winced. "I hope you don't mind me stealing a dance from him."

She fluttered her eyelashes and clutched onto Katsuki's wrist to demonstrate there was no room for argument.

Either Todoroki got the memo, or he was done with his conversation. "You can." He then glanced over at Katsuki. "Hopefully we can have a nice chat like this again."

To Uraraka, he was giving a polite farewell, but to the blonde, he sounded condescending.

Katsuki seethed.

See this bitch? He was practically asking for a black eye to match with the scar on the other one. Before Katsuki could instigate a brawl, he was tugged away without notice, Uraraka's nails digging into his sleeve. He could have wrenched away from her grasp, but he would rather be in her company than Todoroki's.

"Thank you," she said hurriedly before making eye contact with Katsuki.

She frowned disapprovingly and pulled his collar until they were face to face.

"Are you mad?" she hissed. "This is no time for petty disputes!"

She took Katsuki's chin and redirected it to his husband's direction. Izuku was engaged in a conversation with his parents, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol and eyes scrunched up in laughter. He was playing the perfect act of a man who was just married to the love of his life, drunk in mirth and filled with happiness.

Katsuki doesn't know why he felt threatened hearing Izuku's chime-like giggles or why his eyes couldn't drift away from the nerd almost snorting champagne up his nose, but he doesn't want to stick around to find out. The blonde stuck out his bottom lip and amassed a sulky expression.

His hatred for Todoroki dissipated briefly and was replaced by a feeling of inadequacy. He knew why, but he doesn't want to admit it to a woman he barely knew and almost killed in the past.

"What's even your deal?" she asked as they went into position, hands placed upon shoulders and hips. "He has done nothing to Nethereal."

Soft jazzy tunes placed their dancing neighbors into a mesmerized spell, and Katsuki and Uraraka played along to not rouse further suspicion. They swayed to the beat, but their minds were elsewhere. Anger was an emotion that was easy to tap back into, an emotion Katsuki would gladly roll around in than whatever he felt earlier. Insecurity. Guilt. Weakness.

His eyes flickered from Todoroki to Uraraka like a flame, quick but molten and hot.

"That's exactly why I hate him," he spat. "This war went on for over a decade."

So many were robbed from kinder and peaceful life.

"Like any war, there were definitely moments where anybody could change the tides or gained momentum."

Uraraka felt the shift in her partner's stance, the way he guided her to a twirl with practiced ease, but his movements were too stiff and jerky to perform it fluidly.

"Yet," he narrowed his eyes, full of the contempt he held for the prince and his bastard family, "They did nothing, watching from the sidelines, claiming they were too good for our war and announced themselves as a neutral zone."

Katsuki would flip them the bird. A neutral zone. Everyone knew that was a bunch of horseshit.

As he grew older and became more involved with the politics, he understood that the Todoroki's aversion to their war was exactly that. Politics. Though there was no absolute proof, the Bakugou family were well aware of Todoroki Enji's greed, for he was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, for the moment where the two nations would be crippled and ripe for the picking. If not, he would wait for them to beg for his assistance, using his military and bountiful resources as leverage. If he wasn't invading, he would beseech an unfair alliance.

"Todoroki-kun is not like his father," Uraraka pleaded for his case. "He cared about the war, he-"

"And he what? Helped you guys seek asylum for the victims you rescued?" He scoffed. "Yet, he did it all in secrecy. He didn't extend the full brunt of his power, didn't go against his old man," he said with derision. "He was a coward, and he was no different from the people who allowed the war to get that bad."

Despite these efforts, they still haven't made a difference in the long run. His father's rule, the iron grip he held upon the dominion, was as tight as ever. One prime example was the people who were shot and killed on sight whenever they approached the border. Under the name of neutrality, Todoroki Enji ensured nobody could bring the war to them.

So what if Half and Half tried to obtain his own destiny, tried to defy orders and went on his own path? At the root of all this, he was no different from Katsuki himself, and that grated him the most.

Then there was a sharp intake of breath, and Katsuki looked at his dance partner with confusion.

Uraraka wore trepidation and fear like a mask. She asked him a question in the smallest voice.

"How?"

They stopped dancing altogether, coming into a complete standstill. Uraraka looked torn between bolting out of the door or threatening Katsuki to never speak of Todoroki's involvement ever again. Katsuki realized his mistake and only had himself to blame for having such flabby lips. In contrast to his warm and sweaty palms, Uraraka's hands were clammy and cold.

To not make a spectacle of themselves, they went to a nearby table, one that was mostly isolated from the staff and party guests. She hunched forward, her hand tilted in an angle to cover her lips in case someone wanted to read them. Her eyes flitted from table to table to check and see if anybody was remotely interested in their conversation.

Finally, she said under her breath in a hushed tone, "That information was confidential."

Ah, shit. Katsuki was in deep water now.

"No one," she said pointedly, "No one, except a handful of people, were trusted enough to gain this information.

She squeezed his hands tight, her countenance grim and serious.

"So tell me…" She watched for any signs on his face with rapt attention and waited with bated breath. "Who told you this?"

Katsuki remembered.

He remembered of a foolish green-haired man who trusted without reservations, who promised him his father's head on a silver platter. He remembered of a man with freckled cheeks and scarred arms who was determined to prove the world he could make a difference, who proved to him that even weaklings can change.

Change was relative, but in Izuku's case, his change came with sacrifice, a sacrifice Katsuki eventually had to learn, too, ever since he allowed him to live.

He deflected the answer with another question. "What makes you assume we didn't have intel about your ragtag group?"

By oath, Katsuki was not supposed to speak about this, but he can at least tweak the truth. However, he knew Uraraka was a smart woman. She wouldn't have survived the war and had gotten this far with sheer luck. His encounter with the woman was brief, but it spoke magnitudes of her potential.

Look at her now, a woman with a success story in her name, seated upon a position of power. Katsuki was glad he spared her life, for he wouldn't have seen her blossom into who she was meant to be. It was one less failure for him to worry about.

"I see…" Uraraka said and mulled over his words. She shouldn't have been so shocked; she should have expected this. There was no immediate danger at the moment and the war was over, so let bygones be bygones. "Well then," she lightly tapped her fingertips against the surface of the table, "What else do you know?"

She waggled her brows.

Katsuki smirked.

He had to give it to her, she got points for her spunk and audacity, a brave question he thought only Izuku could pull off.

"Some secrets are meant to stay as secrets, Round Face."

"Round Face?!"

"They're definitely not square-shaped, if that's what you're arguing about."

Uraraka pressed against her rosy cheeks and tested out their pudginess.

"They're not that round," she mumbled. "I don't get what Izuku-kun sees in you."

"No, they're adorable, Uraraka-san."

"Izuku-kun!" Uraraka exclaimed.

Said man stood near their table with a drink in hand and an amused smile plastered on his face. His hair was messy from all the ruffling he received tonight, most of them from his elders who congratulated him for his marriage.

"It's getting late Uraraka-san," he said as he read the time from his wristwatch. "You have somebody waiting for you near the exit. Sounds pretty urgent."

Yet, as he said that, there were crinkles near the corners of his eyes and a soft, hopeful tone in his voice. She had enough context clues to make a conjecture, her lips curving into a small smile.

"Is he tall and broad?" Uraraka feigned ignorance.

"Yes, he is," he replied.

"Dorky glasses and blue hair?"

"Yup," he emphasized the 'p' sound. "Wearing a horrid button-up shirt with oranges printed on it."

"Oh dear," Uraraka giggled into her hand. "Are those his sleeping robes? Was he expecting us to have a serious talk wearing that?"

"If you play your cards right," Izuku's eyes twinkled as he teased, "He won't be wearing that any longer."

His sly teasing earned him a slight slap on the arm. "You're horrible," Uraraka said, tomato-faced. "Just horrible."

Katsuki made a grimace, his mind conjuring up a terrible mental image of Four Eyes butt-naked. Izuku must have read his mind since he passed him an apologetic look when they made eye contact.

"Go to him," Izuku urged. His hands caressed Uraraka's. "This is Iida-kun." His head titled towards the door. "Take it or leave it."

Uraraka was hesitant as she rose from her seat because beyond that door, there would be no other exit to escape. However, she wasted enough time twiddling her fingers and table hopping to spark conversations. Her heart was set from the moment Izuku came and informed her of Iida's arrival.

Take it or leave it?

She would take it all, including the messy bits and his garish shirts. She was his ride or die, and he was hers.

They were going to be alright.

"Thank you, Izuku-kun," she said, tiptoeing to leave a chaste peck on his cheek. "Congratulations. May you live a long and happy married life."

She spared a glance towards Katsuki's way, reading him to a point that it left him a tad uncomfortable, but then she sent him a smug smile of her own. Katsuki stared back, oblivious, but then her cheeks glowed, pink and radiant, as she activated her quirk.

"Eh? Uraraka-san, what are you-"

Izuku floated off the ground a couple inches, hands scrambling to find purchase. He hoped to latch onto his friend, but Uraraka, without warning, pushed his weightless body to his husband, which led him to immediately collide into him head-on since she pushed much harder than intended. Katsuki shot out of his chair, the legs scraping against the carpet, as he caught him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" Izuku said, face pressed against his chest.

Katsuki clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Freaking Round Face," he said, watching her retreating form as she strode across the reception hall. He was going to give her a piece of his mind, but she vamoosed before she got an earful. "Butting her nose into business she doesn't belong."

"Um…"

"What is it now?" he grouched.

"… I think she deactivated her quirk now."

Indeed, his feet were solidly placed on the floor, but most likely Izuku was referring to his placement nestled within Katsuki's arms, which were protectively wrapped around his waist as a precaution. After all, he doesn't want to cause a scene where his husband just drifted off to the ceiling. Besides the overly charged moments they premeditated for the audience, this was probably the closest they have ever been due to their own volition.

Usually Katsuki would have backed off or shoved him away, minding his own personal space, but to Izuku's abject surprise, he had done none of the above. Izuku was at a loss for words. With Uraraka gone, the conversation died down until there was silence between the two. It was almost unbearable until the beat dropped, and the lead singer signaled all the couples to gather round for the slow song that was next on the playlist, which gave Izuku the perfect excuse to step away. He doesn't want to continue standing there like a lame duck, so he cautiously reached out his hand.

"Care to join me for one last dance?" he offered awkwardly.

Katsuki made no move to take it. Izuku looked off to the side and rubbed the back of his neck. The dimming lights casted a romantic vibe in the room as multiple pairs, people of all shapes and sizes, clasped hands and joined with the rest as if they belonged there. Katsuki saw that, understood the implications of integrating into the group and how standoffish they seemed. He would have taken that hand in a heartbeat to preserve their image.

"No," he replied.

Izuku's smile wavered, the liquid courage he gained sizzling to a hiss. His hand slowly slid back to his side. "Oh…"

"Don't take it the wrong way," Katsuki huffed and plopped back to his seat. "I'm not in the mood for dancing."

As proof, he evidently laid his head against his sleeve and ignored the world outside of him. Sure, he might be called a party pooper later on, but at this stage of this reception, he doesn't fucking care. He doesn't blame Izuku for putting on one last grand show since the nerd was dedicated to his role as a lovestruck man, but Katsuki was running on empty, most of his energy committed to Kaminari's games and the cake fiasco.

His squad was hoping to squish a giant slice of decadent spiced chocolate cake against his face, but Katsuki was not a naïve fool who would fall for the classic trip and slip. Sadly, he was married to a naïve fool who was absolutely, without fail, deceived by the oldest trick in the book. Flecks of ganache were still stuck on Izuku's hair, giving him the impression of freshly mowed grass with dirt. That would be a bitch to clean in the shower.

Typically, Izuku would ask again, pleading him with those infuriating doe eyes to finish one last dance, and for some reason, Katsuki was uncertain if he could refuse him. That frightened him, but then again, he had gone even greater lengths for his friends.

Then the most magical thing happened. Izuku plopped at the seat right next to him.

A beat later, Katsuki asked him, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," Izuku replied and adjusted his bottom to feel more snug.

"I can see that. Why?"

Izuku blinked rapidly and tilted his head. "You're not in the mood for dancing," he said as if it was the most natural reason in the world.

Katsuki grumbled. "I'm not," he pointed at himself. "But you," he then pointed to Izuku, "Can go dancing."

"I am," Izuku said confidently and used his fingers to walk right up to him. "With you." He swiveled his fingers on the surface of the table and directed his pointer finger at him. "We can do finger dancing."

"Finger dancing," he repeated after him.

"Finger dancing," Izuku parroted, sparkles radiating from the glitter on his face.

"Rejected."

"Hey! You haven't tried it out yet!" Izuku attempted to coax Katsuki to join his antics. "It's not hard to do."

"Sounds like something stupid to do," Katsuki interjected back.

Izuku was not deterred based on his fingers twisting themselves to a poor portrayal of a curtsy. The sight itself was asinine because a grown man was mimicking dancing movements with his fingers when he could have gone out and performed a real curtsy. Katsuki was too appalled to say more.

"Just to let you know," Izuku said softly, "You don't have to do it really." He smiled.

The sweet baritone of the singer was beautiful and accompanied well with the melodic chords he strummed from his guitar. Izuku stared at the couples who were joined at the hip, their heads placed on each other's shoulders. The song kept going on, but those couples were stuck in their fantasy. However, Izuku and Katsuki were not like those couples, and Izuku accepted that fact long ago. He expected himself to feel bitter, to taste it in his tongue, letting it dwell and sit until the flavor subsided, but oddly enough, it was absent. He was happy to just spend some time with Katsuki, and with that, he was thankful.

Katsuki stared at him long and hard. He sighed because he knew Izuku was telling the truth. This was not some ploy for Katsuki to feel guilt and relent to Izuku's wants. After all, this was Izuku. He was not that type of person. Yeah, he was stubborn to a fault, but Katsuki had set his boundaries long ago, boundaries Izuku had respected time and time again.

Katsuki peeked through his sleeve at Izuku's frame, whose attention was focused elsewhere since he had given up on cajoling Katsuki to participate. Eyes half-mast, he looked tired but still bobbed his head up and down to the beat, living the best time of his life despite these circumstances. The blonde openly stared and almost yawned when he saw Izuku stifled his. This was nice, he thought. He felt content. Even scarier, he felt something else.

It was a feeling called gratitude.

With resignation, he dragged his fingers along the edge of the table, feeling more and more horrified as they inched closer to Izuku's hand. His husband jumped a bit when he felt the prod at his hand.

Katsuki's fingers made an attempt to bow low. "May I have this dance?"

His voice was muffled by his sleeve since he still used his other arm as a prop for a pillow, but Izuku heard everything, loud and clear. The green bean, excited, tapped his fingers back onto the table and scurried over to where Katsuki's fingers were.

"Now what?"

Katsuki asked. Needless to say, he was a beginner at this so-called finger dancing. Izuku was not an expert either, but he was optimistic that Katsuki would catch on real quick.

"Follow my lead," he said and proceeded to step forward and back.

For the rest of the reception, this was what they did, lazily "dancing" until the band strung out their last solo, until the last wedding guest drunkenly left, until the restaurant staff hustled to finish cleaning. Katsuki and Izuku were escorted back to their rooms with their bodyguards, and though they were more than capable to fend their own hides, they appreciated their work today because today their legs felt like noodles and their heads buzzed like a beehive.

Izuku whined and groaned as Katsuki redirected him by the shoulders to the bathroom to, in his words, "Wash off the shitty gunk off his hair." He knew he wasn't speaking about the loads of hair gel in his tresses.

Showered and squeaky clean, they barely registered going into bed, sleeping soundly without an interruption in sight, most likely due to everyone's expectations that they consummated their marriage, which was ludicrous to imagine. The only bone they were getting was being bone weary.

When morning came, Katsuki woke first, already accustomed to his strict sleeping schedule, cheek pressed against Izuku's shirt. For the past few days, Izuku was a persistent koala, curling up to him and entangling their legs until Katsuki suffocated from the proximity. It was quite the predicament when it happened the first time, and he guessed it was because of their budding friendship to explain why Izuku suddenly crawled up in his space like that. He stayed there for a while to listen to his steady heartbeat and the dumb little warbles he would let out in occasion.

Following the routine, Katsuki peeled him off and proceeded to get dressed, pushing back the curtains to greet the new day. After all, today was the day. The birds were chirping. The sun was out and bright.

Today was the start of their honeymoon.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Trying my best to get out of burn out and writer's block. owo I'll do my best! Enjoy!**

Izuku ducked, barely missing the bullet that whizzed by his ear, which shattered a tree branch into shards behind him. Other than the sniper taking cover by the canopy of trees, he was outnumbered by the two assassins who he assumed had close range and offensive quirks.

"Go on a honeymoon, they said," Izuku heard Katuski's approaching voice from above.

Izuku dodged to the right, avoiding another bullet aimed for his arm.

"It would be fun, they said," Katsuki continued, unfazed by the attempts made for his life.

Izuku waited, ears seeking for the enemy's mark, but there was no need to calculate the distance or figure out how to avoid the target on his back because next he heard Katsuki's telltale explosions with a bang, followed by a shrill scream and a pronounced _thump_. A human falling from the peak of a tree could make that sound. Must have been the sniper, Izuku thought offhandedly.

Without random strikes and bullets, the prince was emboldened to fight. The first rule of fighting two individuals was to face them one person at a time. It would be foolish to enter a brawl sandwiched between two enemies.

He dashed in an arc and swung his leg before a woman to his left could snag his ankle. The power of his kick caused the wind to slice through the air, separating her from her companion. Leaves fell as if it was raining foliage, and Izuku used that as a distraction for his foot to rebound against the trunk of a tree. The amount of force he used splintered its surface, but it was the amount he needed to ram her into unconsciousness. Without hesitation, his arm collided into her abdominal region, rendering her limp and breathless, and caught her in his arms before she dropped to her doom.

Before he laid her down on a bed of moss, Katsuki's booming voice warned him of the impending danger looming towards him.

"Deku, behind!"

Izuku whipped his head around to see a massive granite spike aimed for his head, and in a few more seconds, it would have surely met its mark. Clutching his passenger tightly, One for All enveloped his being as he braced for the spike to impale him. He would have ended up as mincemeat, but a yellow blur rushed in and blew the spike into smithereens.

Izuku gawked from below because only a man as incredible as Katsuki could move with such inhuman speed. Goosebumps littered his flesh when he saw Katsuki wore a winning smirk, one that made Izuku's insides flip-flop. From there, the enemy lost their chance to succeed because Katsuki would come out victorious regardless of quirk and experience. He rocketed himself back into the treetops, scanning the area for the man who could turn leaves into blades.

"Kacchan! To your 2 o'clock!"

It was game over when Izuku pointed out the enemy's location.

Katsuki propelled himself to the top left, just like how Izuku instructed him and dodged another blade trying to slice his cheek. Katsuki's aim was sure and true, and with one last explosion, the last enemy standing ungracefully tumbled to the ground with a reassuring _thud_.

Izuku finally let out a sigh of relief. He would have clapped and applauded if it wasn't for the knocked-out assassin in his arms, but apparently Katsuki did not share the same sentiment. He stomped past the beds of flowers and tuffs of grass.

"What was that?" he seethed. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? _Again_?"

He lightly shoved the unconscious woman away from Izuku with his boot. The man glared at him for being so rough, but Katsuki scoffed in return. Assassins do not deserve polite pleasantries.

"What was I supposed to do?" Izuku challenged him. Damn him and his stubbornness. "Drop her and permanently damage her spine?"

"I rather have that than have you bleeding out on the ground along with your stupid bleeding heart," Katsuki spat back.

At the very least, his latest opponent should end up with a spinal cord injury, broken ribs, and a concussion, and yet Katsuki wasn't weeping over the injuries he inflicted upon them because this was part of their job. They were the ones who chose this occupation, who signed their waiver of liability the moment they stooped to this level. They were contracted to kill Katsuki and Izuku, so therefore, they were prepared for the consequences in the event that they should fail.

"But I couldn't just leave her there," Izuku said defensively, his face pinched at the mere thought of abandoning her. "My body moved on its own."

Then Katsuki threw back, "So what? You thought it would be better for you to die in her stead?"

The answer was no. It would not be better because that meant she succeeded in her mission, so why couldn't Izuku grasp this concept?

"You can't save everyone, Deku," he said.

Though Katsuki had the exterior of a violent man with a loud personality, he wasn't the sort to strike his lover or treat them violently, but Izuku's face looked as if he slapped him with the back of his hand, his eyes glazed with a history Katsuki cannot fathom to unearth.

"I…" Izuku trailed off, his words dying on his lips, and shook his head, choosing to walk away rather than escalating this into a full-blown fight. The venom was on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash back, but this was an argument that would serve only heartache and painful memories.

It was the stress, Izuku reminded himself.

There was no room to relax or celebrate in the past few days. Instead of sipping mimosas under palm trees and splashing the waves, the pair had to avoid yet another ill-timed assassination attempt, and if Izuku counted correctly, this was their third time. They were beginning to wear thin.

* * *

"What?!" Kirishima bemoaned and slapped his forehead in disbelief. "Again?"

"Yeah," Katsuki replied grouchily and took another swig of ale. "Again," he confirmed and slammed his mug on table.

If given the opportunity, he would have smacked every assassin he encountered this past week with it.

"To be honest, we were thinking of canceling the honeymoon." Katsuki pointedly ignored the look of horror on his best friend's face. "Too much trouble to go through with it."

Theoretically, if the newlyweds proceeded with their honeymoon plans, they would need security clearance and be under surveillance at all times. Guards would be at every corner, ensuring no criminal could slip past their radar, but there was a price for such protection, which was a cost Katsuki and Izuku were not fond of. After all, many expected the lovely couple to be knee-deep in their honeymoon phase with pheromones radiating every crevice until it was gross and suffocating. Katsuki and Izuku were not sure if they could handle being in that mode 24/7.

"No!" Kirishima whined on their behalf. "But you guys were looking forward to that remote island."

Yeah, they were until they found their resort burnt to a crisp with a threat that promised disembodiment written in someone's blood.

"It's fine Shitty Hair," Katsuki scoffed. "We can redo our honeymoon next year." Or never. It's not like they were helplessly in love and couldn't wait banging each other six ways from Sunday.

"No! This is a travesty!" Kirishima refused to accept any bullshit, especially if it was Katsuki's honeymoon on the line. "Look," he said and held Katsuki's shoulder with a firm grip, the type of grip a drunk man shouldn't be able to do. "I think I can nab some tickets to a honeymoon cruise at short notice."

Kirishima, bless his good Samaritan soul, eyed Katsuki with an unwavering stare. "Don't give up, dude. Whenever you're in a pinch, I'm there for you."

Moments like these made Katuski wonder if Kirishima was too good to be true. The sweetheart of their ragtag group, the reliable guy who was loyal to a fault. Kirishima was that and more, but Katsuki wondered if Kirishima always tried his best in their friendship to make amends for his failures, for the moments he was not there for Katsuki when he was backed into a corner. However, that was another story for another day, and it was neither Kirishima's nor his fault for those events to transpire.

Katsuki drank his alcohol clean. "I'll think 'bout it," he said.

He never wanted his friend to feel indebted. Knowing him, the redhead would have somehow snatched tickets to the next arriving cruise by dawn.

"Hell yes!" Kirishima pumped his fist into the air. "I won't let you down!"

Katsuki gruffly shielded his face as a series of hoots and whistles arose to support and hype Kirishima's cause even though they have no idea whatsoever.

"Pipe down, you embarrassment," Katsuki attempted to tug his friend back to his seat. "You're making a scene," he hissed in contrast to the man's boisterous laughter.

After a couple more rounds of celebration, Kirishima was left in a drunken stupor with his face as red as his bright, crimson hair, leaving a disgruntled Katsuki to lug him back to Kaminari. The ride back to their home was not long, and before Katsuki could finish reciting the alphabet in his head to retain his sanity, the house Kirishima shared with Kaminari was within sight. It was quaint and quite small, but the large garden at the front compensated for its size. On one side were a rainbow of flowers in full bloom, ranging from bushes of violet hydrangeas to the patches of adorable, tiny baby's breath, whereas the other side consisted of fruits and vegetables they can either sell or eat.

Kaminari was at the doorstep of their humble abode, waiting to welcome his husband-to-be back home, wearing ugly, tacky pajamas that had Kirishima's face printed on every piece of fabric. It was the most hideous outfit Katsuki had ever seen, and that spoke a lot since he was married to Izuku.

"I guess you drank him under the table," Kaminari said, watching Kirishima drooling on Katsuki's arm.

Nope, Katsuki was still glued upon that horrendous outfit, which was so repulsive, he couldn't take his eyes off of it.

"He lasted longer last time," Katsuki admitted.

Maybe if he was sneaky enough, he can break into their home while they were sleeping, steal the offensive clothing, and burn it all in the furnace. It was possible considering his background in reconnaissance. Using his exceptional skills for the well-being of this nation was a duty he must partake.

Kaminari let out a mock impressed whistle. "How long? Two hours?"

"I'll be generous and say this clod survived for an hour."

Hey, he did last about fifteen minutes more than the last time they went out drinking.

"Wow," Kaminari smirked, "So generous."

"Fuck you. I'm always generous," Katsuki flipped him off with his free hand. "Here, you can have him back," he said as he unslung Kirishima off his shoulder. "He kept whining for you. What a loser."

He also made a face when he touched the wetness of Kirishima's saliva remaining on his shoulder.

"Thanks, dude," Kaminari smiled and took back his lump of sunshine. "Get back home safely, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Katsuki replied and waved off when he turned to make his leave.

"Love you lots, Kacchan," Kaminari called out while placing an emphasis on Izuku's nickname for him.

Irritated, Katsuki yelled, "I hope he suffocates you in your sleep!"

"Eijirou loves you, too!"

Katsuki was almost in his right mind to return back to their doorstep and whack him with a sandal, face reddened from a combination of drinks and secondhand embarrassment, but then stopped when he saw Kaminari's somber expression.

"If anything's bothering you…" There was hesitance in Kaminari's end. "You know we're there for you, right?"

Katsuki paused and glanced at the scar peeking out of the collar of his pajamas, a wound that was entirely his fault even though Kaminari continued to comfort his guilt. Perhaps the effects of the alcohol finally spread throughout his body, rendering his mind fuzzy from responding to such a heavy, loaded question. Perhaps he was afraid of hurting his best friends, for this was not the first nor the last time he sealed his mouth shut in favor of preserving the peace, in favor of protecting them from the worst.

Therefore, he numbingly went back home, unable to form a reply and left Kaminari hanging, only to return back to a bed with another estranged friend. He laid there with hopes of a peaceful sleep to drift him away from his ninety-nine problems.

However, even that plan was curtailed when Izuku woke up in the middle of the night, screaming out a dead child's name in cold sweat, once again almost killing Katsuki by activating his quirk. As if it was second nature, the man rolled out of the bed before a swift fist could reach him, but even though Izuku missed, one pervasive thought came across Katsuki's mind.

He couldn't help but wonder if this honeymoon was ever worth the agony.


	15. Chapter 15

Izuku was a tough cookie. This Katsuki knew, for he was the man who spearheaded multiple rescue missions to the point of gaining a bounty on his head, who sacrificed his soul and body to someone as difficult and unyielding as Bakugou Katsuki. He was the man invaded enemy territory and challenged Stain to save his friend. He was also the inheritor who accepted One for All into his bones, forever changing the construction of his destiny until his final breath.

To the people whose lives he touched, Izuku was a man of many, but despite these opinions, he only viewed himself as just one.

One quirkless child. One cowardly knight. One failure.

Izuku was a man of many, and there were many deaths in his hands, whether he ended their lives or was unable to save them from peril. However, there was one death that stuck to him like a thorn at his side, that haunted him in his nightmares.

The same scene would play out before him over and over again, and Izuku, just like that moment, would be helpless, frozen at the ground as he screamed out her name, screaming at the heavens to spare her life. One would have expected the repeated nightmares to turn out dry and predictable but replaying Eri's death never made it easier to handle.

The memory was so vivid, it almost felt like it happened yesterday.

Paralyzed by Stain's quirk, Izuku fell midair, prepared to receive the final blow, but Eri, poor, sweet Eri, shoved him away with outstretched arms.

Stain's rusty blade went through her small body as if it was butter.

Izuku throat was caught as he let out a silent, agonizing scream.

He fell to the ground, only to be scooped up into Iida's arms as he retreated, and Izuku watched helplessly in despair as Eri's dying form activated her quirk to reverse Stain and his followers out of existence. If she was going to die, she was going to take them with her to hell.

In his dreams, her wide-eyed stare unnerved him. In some variations of this nightmare, she would crawl over to grasp his ankle with a wide-eyed, zombie-like stare.

"It's all your fault," she would say, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth before she disappeared into dust.

"You said you would protect me," she would accuse him before pushing him out of harm's way.

The worst ones were Iida carrying Izuku and running away, propelling forward without looking back. Izuku would attempt to pound his fists against his friend's chest, but it was futile. He was paralyzed.

To fan the flames of his overriding guilt, the Iida in his dreams would solemnly look at him with pitying eyes. "We can't go back, Midoriya-kun."

He knew that. He knew that, and yet-

What Iida said next ripped out the man's broken heart, and though they were words with the intention to quell his grief, they stuck to Izuku like a festering wound.

"You can't save everyone," his friend told him in a sad, hushed voice, a spearing contrast to his loud, boisterous tirades.

It was the truth, a cold, hard truth Izuku still struggled to accept.

"Young man," All Might told him gravely as Izuku wept for his fallen brethren, "We try, but sometimes we can't save everyone."

"You can't save everyone, Deku," Katsuki said with knowing eyes and a knowing heart. He saw right through him.

He was right. They were all right. He can't save everyone. He can't-

Air. Where was the air? Where was he? Why was he such a failure? Why couldn't he-

Izuku opened his eyes, barely registering that he was screaming and crying throughout the ordeal. Katsuki was on the floor, most likely to avoid Izuku's violent thrashing until he was awake. Disoriented, Izuku tried to recall what happened in his dreams.

The mutilated corpses in the experimentation room. His father's grimy victorious sneer hanging over him. Eri sacrificing herself to save Izuku.

A crushing wave of nausea washed over him, and Izuku clamped his hands over his mouth, rushing towards the bathroom before he expelled the contents of his stomach on the bed. At his lowest, he sobbed while hovering over the toilet, crying for the people he lost and failed. He made choking gasps, clutching onto the toilet seat as if it was an anchor to keep him at bay.

Children were wrongfully murdered, their bodies cruelly used for-

Izuku threw up again, crying out wretched, strained sounds as he shut out the images that tormented his mind. He wiped away the excess spit with his sleeve and grimaced at the unpleasant taste in his mouth.

"Please, please, please," he begged to no one. He lightly pounded his head with his fists. "Stop," he said in a small voice. "Please stop."

No more wallowing, he told himself. No more crying.

His bottom lip trembled. His throat felt constricted. He was not the only person who suffered through the war, he reasoned as the room felt smaller and smaller. There were more people who faced worse, who were tortured and-

Katsuki was outside the bathroom door, sporting a light bruise on his forearm with a glass of water, most likely an offering to a disoriented Izuku. Arms crossed, he stepped closer and squatted to his husband's level. The green-haired man cringed and shrunk because he must have looked disgusting for allowing his emotions to control him, for ruining another night with his nightmares. After all, Katsuki needed his beauty sleep.

"Sorry," he mumbled and watched the still water of the toilet bowl. His lips thinned when he peeked and saw the discoloration on Katsuki's skin.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," he said in a hushed voice, horrified with himself. "I'm so sorry," he hiccupped as the tears threatened to return in full force. Breathing shouldn't be a difficult task, but it was. "I didn't mean to-"

To be a monster. To be a useless Deku. To-

Like pulling a trigger, Katsuki flicked his finger, aiming for the center of Izuku's forehead without remorse as a loud smack echoed in the bathroom.

"Drink the water, you idiot," he said with an irritated expression, pushing the glass into Izuku's hands. "You're dehydrated."

He scrunched his nose. Izuku vomited more than he expected. Maybe there were some electrolyte drinks in the kitchen.

"Sorry," Izuku lowered his head and gingerly took the glass.

Katsuki huffed. "Sorry for what? Accepting the water?"

Well, when he said it that way, he does sound silly, constantly apologizing for nothing.

Brandishing a wet cloth in his free hand, Katsuki leaned close and wiped away his sweat, clearing away the bad memories that came with it. In response, Izuku leaned forward and accepted his touch, relishing the feel of the heat against his clammy skin.

It was silent, save for the random dripping from the sink faucet.

Katsuki lifted his arm, the one that had the bruise. "This one was my fault, not yours." At Izuku's questioning look, he explained, "Banged it against the nightstand when I dodged."

Izuku placed a hand on his chest. "But that means-"

"It means shit, Deku," he growled and gripped his grass green head.

Tense fingers brushed against soft, curly strands. He was at a loss because he doesn't know what to say, to get the message across through his thick, dense skull.

"Always saying sorry, always taking the blame…"

Why were words hard? What can he do to preserve this friendship?

"You don't have to say sorry all the time, you know?" he said helplessly.

Survivor's guilt was an ugly, vicious feeling, for he had seen its work amongst hundreds and his friends, destroying relationships and connections at the drop of a hat. However, he doesn't want to lose what he formed with Izuku. This was theirs. It was too late to return back to square one, the times where they harnessed animosity for each other, and even with that, the resentment was misguided because it stemmed from the war and its unjustified biases.

"Sorry, I-" Izuku caught himself and flushed, stumbling over how to convey his jumbled feelings.

Seemed like he needed a little push.

Sometimes a push was what one needed to make change. After all, a small push was what ignited this entire setup and their destiny.

"Maybe start with a thank you," the blond suggested ruefully.

Change doesn't happen instantaneously.

"Thank you," Izuku sniffled with snot stuffing his nose. His heart _ached_. "It's just… I try so hard to become better," he hiccuped, "To be _stronger_."

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. If he wasn't so drained, his fingers would have teared through the toilet seat.

"Yet, look at _me_ ," his voice went a notch closer to hysteria. "Nothing's changed."

He still couldn't protect himself. He still put himself through reckless situations. No matter how many times he trained in preparation, they seemed for naught.

Newly formed tears coated his eyelashes as he continued to vent.

"Sometimes I wonder… I wonder if my best was ever meaningful," he confessed quietly in the confines of their bedroom.

And Katsuki hitched his breath at the admission, for it barely occurred to him that his friend would harbor these feelings.

"It was meaningful," Katsuki counteracted.

"Today said differently."

"Well, today was already shit when the assassins wouldn't let me take a piss."

Izuku's lips quirked the slightest twitch. "Oh yeah, you had to hold it in while we were fighting."

"Fuck those inconsiderate bastards," he groused, mindfully eyeing the nerd drinking his water. "Pissing me off with their bad timing. They're lucky I didn't piss on them as punishment."

Izuku let out a small, immature giggle. "Gross."

"Serves them right."

Doctors would say that laughter was the best medicine. There was a tint of healthy color returning to his cheeks.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Katsuki sighed and squatted back up to stand. "I'll head to the kitchen to find some electrolyte drinks for you."

"Cherry-flavored please," Izuku piped up.

"Spoiled brat," he clicked his tongue in mocking fashion. For that, he'll actively search for lemon-flavored ones. After a beat, he asked him, "You good?"

He also doesn't trust Izuku with his wobbly legs to navigate himself to the sink.

As if reading his mind, the man waved him off and said, "Go on. I'll be fine."

He squinted and then threatened, "If you still smell like vomit and sweat when I come back here, you've given me permission to kick your ass."

"Yeah, yeah," Izuku quipped, "I'll swear I'll be clean lickety-split." He crossed his heart for added effect.

With one last scowl, Katsuki went off to his intended destination. As if the man pressed a timer with ten minutes tops, Izuku went to his closet in haste to change into a fresh set of pajamas and thoroughly brushed his teeth while hopping into the pant legs. He was a mess, but Katsuki was willing to stick with this mess.

He was quite laughable when Katsuki arrived with two red-colored bottles, half-dressed and stumbling to dry his face with a towel.

"See, this is why you're Deku."

"Shut up," Izuku pouted underneath the shirt he was trying to put on, his arms comically dangling from the neck hole. "Help."

He blamed it on the nightmares. They screwed his head wrong. They surely screwed his head wrong when he heard his husband laugh because a traitorous part of him wished that he could listen to that sound every day even at the expense of his mishaps.

"Stupid nerd, you're wearing my shirt."

Izuku was not amused at the hint of smugness there, could practically taste this man's urge to rub his mistakes in his face.

Well, that explained a lot. No wonder the abdominal part felt unusually tight and constricting. Izuku was many things, but he was not built to be a tortilla chip. A pair of hands pushed his arms out of the neck hole and guided them to the correct sleeves, allowing him to pull the rest of the shirt down.

"Thank you," he muttered under his breath, his pout more prevalent than ever.

He begrudgingly pulled at the fabric, nose scrunching up when it didn't stretch. How does Katsuki sleep in these? Does he not own a pair of baggy clothes for sleepwear?

Despite his inner complaints, Izuku doesn't want to be petty and ask for assistance to remove these clothes when he just put them on.

He climbed back into bed and rolled to his side, patting Katsuki's designated spot expectantly. The man in question crossed his arms.

"We're not sleeping," he declared.

"What?" Izuku tilted his head. "Why not?"

"Because," Katsuki said and sat on the edge of the mattress, "I know you're not going to sleep."

Izuku, for once, was stunned speechless. Unable to lie to his companion, he couldn't refute that his suspicions were correct. Nightmares plagued his dreams, soaking his mind with fear and images of death. The mutilated bodies of pregnant women. The children and women who were horded like cattle and assaulted without mercy. The-

"Deku, are you there with me?" Katsuki's voice filtered through, breaking him free from that horrid trance. He sucked in a shaky breath.

He doesn't want to close his eyes because he would be forced to relive those memories. He can afford losing one or two days of sleep.

"You can sleep without me," Izuku said with a brave smile. He jeopardized Katsuki's time long enough, monopolizing his kindness and forgoing his beauty sleep. "I'll keep myself busy. You don't have to worry about me."

Katsuki didn't mean to think of his mother. Really, he didn't.

Bakugou Mitsuki was a mother who spoke with brash words and dubbed it as tough love, but despite her parenting, she had some considerable iconic moments in his youth, moments that contributed to shape him into the man he is today.

In this case, she would have said, without a second thought, "That is some absolute bullshit if I ever heard of it."

Therefore, Katsuki mimicked unconsciously, "That is some absolute bullshit if I ever heard of it."

Taken aback, Izuku looked ready to argue. Good, because Katsuki wanted to butt heads with this self-sacrificing idiot.

Yet, the idiot persisted. "I can sleep in my secondary room."

Secondary room. How long has it been since they slept in separate rooms?

Their sleeping arrangement used to be like that long ago when they began this fake relationship business and were at each other's throats. These nightmares brought Katsuki to invite Izuku to his room, that kindled and evolved their strained hostility into a loyal friendship they couldn't bare losing.

"And what?" he asked. "Give them the message that we're breaking up?"

"That's not my intention."

"What kind of message do you think that sends? Two newlyweds sleeping in separate rooms right before their honeymoon trip."

"If we'll ever get that honeymoon trip," Izuku snapped, but not a moment too soon, he winced.

This was going nowhere, they noticed. They were simply running in circles, mindlessly sprinting in full speed towards a resolution that was unobtainable.

It was time for them to break the cycle and their habit of changing the subject. Their festering stubbornness to fight. To rinse and repeat.

"I'm sorry."

Izuku blinked, surprise coloring his face. For once, those words did not come out of his mouth.

His husband, the very man who went headlong into battle against his mother when she rejected their marriage, who recklessly threw himself into this role to give his friends a chance of peace, was the same man who just uttered an apology.

"You're not weak, Deku," he clenched his fists. "You're annoying," he said, still irritated of Izuku's martyr complex, "But you're not weak." Long ago, he saw proof of that inner strength, the grin he bared to protect everyone's hearts despite the fracture in his leg. It was a memory Katsuki rarely touched. "You're strong."

"Kacchan…"

"What I said before was true, but…" He looked away, unable to maintain eye contact while saying such embarrassing words. "I shouldn't have been harsh to you. I know you're trying your best." Like an afterthought to salvage the veneer of his gruff personality, he tacked on a nerd to the end of that sentence.

"Kacchan…" Izuku said a bit wobblier. Oh no, the waterworks were coming. "I'm sorry, too, for being a suicidal dumbass and… and…," he caught himself again, wiping his eyes with his sleeve in the process. After a short sniffle, he continued, "Thank you, Kacchan." His smile was the brightest it had ever been since the beginning of their honeymoon troubles. "I never knew I needed to hear that."

"Whatever," he said while his brain struggled to comprehend on what to do next. Obviously, he took praises like a pimp, but accepting them from a genuine guy like Izuku made him queasy. He doesn't even know if that was the right way to explain it.

With that settled, Katsuki said, "We have a few hours before daylight." Before Izuku could protest about staying up all night together and smother Katsuki in his blankets, he told him, "Sit your ass on the bed. I got an idea on how to kill time."

However, combining lack of sleep and the high of emotions was not a good look on the green-haired man, which led him to reply impertinently, "But my ass is already on the bed."

Apparently, lack of sleep and the high of emotions was not a good look on Katsuki either. This is why he slept the recommended eight hours a day.

"Shut up," he muttered.

He almost threw in the towel when Izuku let out the light, breathy laugh, the kind of laugh that gave Katsuki the itch to suffocate him with a pillow. He went onward to the main point.

"To kill time," he reiterated, "We'll exchange bedtime stories."

"Bedtime stories?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Not to be rude," which was typically the opening to obtuse rudeness, "But why choose bedtime stories?"

"What?" Katsuki took the route to be insulted. "You think I don't know any?"

"No, no, no, no," he said hurriedly.

He leaned back, away from Katsuki's closeness and his indomitable glare that pierced through his scarred palms as he shielded his face. "It's just… That was…" He fumbled, "Of all the things you could have suggested, I would not expect… That."

Sharing stories was almost as impossible as kissing to Izuku. In order words, he would not have foreseen that.

"Look," said Katsuki. "Even though a good night's sleep is impossible tonight, we can at least attempt to relax and nap."

As much as Katsuki enjoyed sparring and parrying against Izuku's blows, bedtime stories were less draining as physical. After that bout of endangering their lives, he wanted to slump back into the sheets and block out the outside noise.

"Okay," Izuku said and fiddled his thumbs excitedly.

To be honest, he loved listening to stories, absorbed them like a sponge during the war. Though he saved them from death, there was only so much he could do to save with a smile. When the children were distressed, the people would huddle together in groups and perform dramatic oral presentations of commonly known stories. To add pizazz and intensity, there would be a fire at the center of the circle while the other refugees played with their makeshift instruments if time permitted it.

Izuku would fervently listen while patrolling the area, and if he was forced to take a break, he would sit cross-legged amongst the other kids as the mothers weaved out stories and sewed in their little twist.

"What story are you starting with?" Izuku asked, with wonder and stars in his eyes.

" _The Swan and Her Stars_ ," he said. After a pause, he confessed gently, "It's one of my favorites."

Before life went to shit, his tutors would pour documents and textbooks onto his desk, assigning him to finish them by nightfall. When his eyes were drooping to a close and his brain was fried from the education, his father would spare some time to visit him.

His mother would accompany him sometimes, but business would always snatch her away. Without fail, his father would bring his thick book of fairytales under his arm and read to him a story each night.

Before the war crushed that tradition, before the war took his father from his bedroom, he would request that story, for it was a tale of true strength, of never giving up and achieving one's dreams.

It was the last story he heard until he was left alone to read his own stories.

Katsuki rummaged his brain to remember how it was introduced.

Like all stories, he said, "Once upon a time."

Then Izuku interrupted with, "You're saying it wrong."

If Katsuki had the book, he would have slammed it on the nightstand. He had to make do with slapping his thigh.

Focus totally lost, he exclaimed, "Hah?! And how am I doing it wrong exactly?!"

The covers were up to Izuku's freckled nose, leaving him a cute image that was outright scandalous and hundreds would pay thousands for a candid photo. Katsuki twitched, frustrated by the interruption and Izuku's poor attempt to look cute to lessen his irritation. Both sounded absurd.

"You're not using your storytelling voice," Izuku answered.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me."

"But it's boring if you don't," Izuku's voice then went an octave lower and attempted to imitate a surly man, "And that ruins the story."

First of all, that was a terrible imitation because he can sound surlier than that. Secondly, Katsuki would not subject himself to this sort of humiliation, for his name is Bakugou Katsuki and he will not-

Then Izuku threw the worst shade in history. "At least sound better than Todoroki-kun," he said feebly.

What. The. Fuck.

"Half-and-Half read you a bedtime story?!" he almost screeched. Perhaps that was an overreaction, but this was his husband comparing his storytelling skills with Icy Hot.

This was a betrayal deeply rooted.

"No, no, no," Izuku dared to sound amused. He looked back on the memory fondly. "Well, um, you see," he stalled as he fabricated a different explanation.

Katsuki wasn't supposed to know about his ally's involvement in giving the refugees a sanctuary. He wasn't supposed to know of the time Todoroki did a retelling of _The Bamboo Boy_.

A flash of inspiration struck him. "Well, um, you see.." Inspiration was slowly loading.

"After the treaty, Todoroki-kun sent in aid. One of his generous gifts was ginormous library for the children."

That part was the truth, and Izuku was forever thankful.

"I happened to be there while it happened," he chuckled, holding in his snorts as he recalled, "His storytelling was so bland, half of the children slept through the rest."

Though Izuku should not be proud he almost slept as well, he was proud that he kept himself awake to be a supportive friend. Todoroki was one of those monotonous readers would even scream tonelessly. He guessed it took talent to accomplish that.

Either way, the flames of competition were stirred within Katsuki.

"Fine," he said petulantly and gathered his wits. He was going to blow Izuku's socks off with his storytelling. He was going to be so successful that socks will magically appear on the nerd's feet and fly off.

"Once upon a time," he restarted, "There was a swan…"

There once was a swan who loved the stars and yearned to shine as brightly as them. From that desire, the swan practiced flying as high as possible in hopes of reaching them.

"However," Katsuki said grimly, grinning on the inside at Izuku's attentive stare, "The swan's brothers and sisters were jealous of her talent and mocked her for her dreams."

Tie yourself to a balloon, they jeered, and maybe then you'll float to the sky. Take a dive off the roof, they joked, and maybe that'll help you be a star.

"The swan never gave up, for her love for the stars was far greater than the pain the others inflicted on her," he said, fire burning in his chest.

Just like the child he was years ago, Izuku was determined for the swan to achieve her goals because she worked so hard and put in so much effort.

"One day," he pursed his lips, for the next scene was difficult to retell. "She broke her wing."

Izuku gasped.

"She flew too high and fell on her wing when she got tired," he said sadly. "And the beautiful swan who flew the highest couldn't fly anymore."

Invested, Izuku asked, fearing for the swan, "What happens next?"

Stories were fearsome and powerful, for they were unforgettable and handed down from generation to generation. The messages they sent to the world rang true, and in Katsuki's case, when his father told him the climax, Katsuki wanted to pass down that invigorating feeling to Izuku, too.

"She never gave up," he smiled, big and wide.

The swan, despite her disability, persisted and traveled far and wide to the highest mountains to try to fly to the stars one last time. She was entirely devoted to the stars, and the stars reciprocated her love.

"With the mightiest push she could muster, she pushed herself off the mountaintop and flapped her wings as much as she could even though she was in extreme pain and tired from her journey."

Izuku covered his mouth, shocked. "Did she…?" He couldn't finish that question.

"No," Katsuki said. "The stars heard her call and fell in love with her in return."

The foolish swan who jumped off the mountain managed to eclipse the sun, bringing forth darkness. In that fleeting moment, the stars enveloped the swan and held her close, hugging her so tight that she became the moon.

"And so," he concluded, "The swan became the moon and stayed with the stars, for the swan's love was so great that it was bright enough to light up the night."

"Wow," Izuku said in awe. "So that's the origin story of the moon."

"Yeah," Katsuki shrugged. "Thought it was pretty badass."

"Badass, indeed," he agreed. "Better than our origin story of the moon," he admitted.

In turn, his comment piqued his interest. "Oh, really? What's it about?"

Therefore, what began as a brief storytelling session expanded into a full-length comparison of bedtime stories between their sovereignties and poured those notes into the library once they decided to drop by there to double check.

Once in a while, the two would find themselves sharing the same story, often changing the names and minor details.

"What's your favorite story, by the way?" Katsuki asked Izuku as he skimmed through another storybook.

" _The Wolf and the Rabbit_ ," Izuku said happily while flipping through pages.

"Sounds familiar," Katsuki pondered for a bit. "Mind helping me jog my memory?"

"Well…"

"Most stories start with, 'Once upon a time', you know?" he prodded for fun. It was time for payback.

"Shut up," Izuku jumped on him, hopefully making him lose his reading spot.

"Get a taste of your own medicine," Katsuki jabbed his side in retaliation.

The two were like this through the rest of the night, compiling sources and discovering new facts about their cultures as if they were experts in this field. In the morning, the maids found them stacked upon each other, snoozing the morning away tangled in each other's arms.

Just like how proper lovers should look like.


	16. Chapter 16

"Maybe if we went in this direction..."

Katsuki stirred from his slumber, squinting past the rays of the sun and wiping away the gunk at the corners of his eyes to see Izuku, hunched over strewn maps with a prevalent furrow in his brows. The blond groaned as he rolled his body closer, already gaining a migraine from the huge white board looming over Izuku's noticeably smaller frame. Either the nerd hauled it to their room with some help, or he cheated and used his quirk to carry it. Scribbles and chicken scratch dominated the board, and Katsuki tiredly traced over the red lines zigzagging from one idea to the next like a storm.

Overwhelmed, his hand slid down his face. It was too damn early to process that much information. While Izuku was occupied, Katsuki stretched out his back like a cat, adjusting his spine until he felt comfortable. Still, Izuku muttered up a storm despite the distracting cracks and pops coming from his stiff body.

"Deku," he called out his name.

One word went into one ear, but nothing came out of the other. Izuku was lost in his world, completely unaware of Katsuki's presence next to him. This was exemplified by how he carelessly bumped into him while crawling back to his jumbled scrawls, feverishly adding another into the mix.

"Ah! But even if we split up, there is no guarantee that we can shake them off our tail," Izuku argued with himself and drew in more lines.

Katsuki squinted at him. He squinted at him real hard.

"Nerd," he prodded Izuku's sides. "How long did you sleep?"

Too abruptly, he replied, "Enough."

Enough was not enough apparently, based on the ghastly dark circles under his eyes, looking like he went through a break up and smeared mascara without reserve. Izuku barely slept a wink.

"Deku..."

"I'm tired of them," Izuku's voice cut through like an unwavering stream.

His glare was tinged red from the lack of sleep, but the expected exhaustion was no longer seeping into his bones. Unbridled anger made a home in his eyes, and they seek for revenge. Not bloodlust, but pure, unadulterated revenge. Katsuki shuddered under the intensity of this anger, for he tasted it firsthand when Izuku spoke of his father's crimes even though the man himself wasn't aware of his true identity.

"Whoever sent these assassins," Izuku said lowly with electrifying green illuminating his irises, "They had their fun, but no more."

He said this as if it was fact because it was, because Izuku would make sure of it. Flashes of his father congratulating him for completing the grunt work unhinged him.

" _ _I always knew you had potential__ ," he would say in mock pride while patting his head with cold, cold hands. " _ _My golden boy__ ," he chuckled deliriously.

A litany of curses dredged up in the back of his throat. No more, Izuku told himself. He was a puppet no more.

"And don't you dare stop me from plotting their demise," Izuku warned Katsuki like thunder, "Because I want payback."

For payback was the only suitable payment for such grievances.

Katsuki watched, bewildered, because in Izuku's hands was a newly snapped pen. The ink blotched his skin, painting it red.

"Oh no!" Izuku snapped out of his virulent emotions and rushed for the tissues. "Not another one," he groaned.

Katsuki blinked, slowly absorbing Izuku's words and understanding what motivated this man to be this angry. His skin tingled and crawled in anticipation. After the initial shock, the blond felt a familiar surge of rage bubbling to a boil, ready to spill and burn whoever was within range. Anger was an emotion he could work with; tapping back into that anger was a piece of cake. Indeed, these paid killers toyed with them long enough, and he was not willing to stand around like an open target.

"Who said I was stopping you?"

Izuku paused in his handiwork, looking at Katsuki with a suspicious glance.

"You're right," Katsuki grabbed another pen and handed it to him. "Screw these fuckers."

If there was war paint, he would have dipped his fingers into the pigments and decorated his cheeks for battle.

"How far have you gotten?" he asked with a pen in tow because two heads were better than one.

* * *

Uchiyama Koki was often mistaken for a child due to his fair and short appearance, but his deadly quirk gave him his notorious reputation. At the beginning, his contractors would belittle him for his height and youthful face, but Koki would curtail their distrust once he dropped their target's disembodied head on their desk. At least he got the job done. Underestimating him would have been their gravest mistake.

He activated the transmitter in his ear. "Fujiwara-san, what do you see?"

One cannot thrive in this business alone. Top-notch work required a group than an individual.

"No suspicious activity as of late," reported his friend, "But Kaminari Denki and Kirishima Eijirou just left the castle premises."

"Perfect. Let me know if anything changes."

"Roger that."

Their contractor was a peculiar fellow, but he was also a humble one, who offered some lackeys to make up the lack of manpower required to eliminate Midoriya Izuku. Fujiwara was a reliable ally, especially in terms of surveillance, but having a quirk that could implant a limited amount of peepholes in certain places was not meant for combat. Though Koki had never seen his boss's face in person, Koki understood he harbored a prominent grudge towards the green-haired prince, the kind that would take him to the ends of the earth in order to see his head on a pike. If Bakugou Katsuki happened to be caught in the crossfire… It wouldn't hurt to accept the bonus added to their paycheck.

A few minutes later Fujiwara found an unexpected guest through one of his peepholes near the main entrance of the castle. A long-haired woman with a lace crop top and hot pink shorts entered through the front gate with a natural sway to her hips. She was chewing bubble gum and precariously traipsing down the cobblestone path with a ridiculous pair of glamorous holographic stilettos. Despite her harmless outward appearance, both men recognized her.

"Utsushimi Camie, huh," Koki skimmed through her files, swiping through her past missions and roles.

Most of them he didn't spare a glance because they were insignificant. Before he could find any more dirt on her, his ear buzzed, filling his eardrums with deafening static.

"Hey Fujiwara," he turned on the transmitter. "You out there?"

That ear-splitting static was his only response.

"Fujiwara!" He spoke louder. Did the signal drop?

He heard some muffling at one point, but when a few seconds passed, the static disappeared. "Sorry about that, Koki," his friend said in a rush.

Koki was about to give him an earful, but then he heard a huff of amusement. "These two chicks suddenly climbed up the roof just to fuck, so I got out of there quick, ya know? Wouldn't want to get distracted."

Koki rolled his eyes at the comment.

Fujiwara's hiding spot was compromised, but Koki trusted him to find another one without fail. There was still some residual static coming from the earpiece, but that was natural considering his friend was on the run.

"Keep an eye out for Utsushimi," Koki said. "Her quirk would prove useful if Bakugou and Midoriya planned to escape."

"Fuck," he heard a hiss. Then he heard telltale static and a thud.

"Fujiwara?" With no answer, he prepared for the worst. Were they finished before they even started? "Fujiwara?!"

"There are two pairs!"

"What?"

"I see two pairs of Bakugou and Midoriya! One running towards the marketplace and the other towards the ocean!"

Koki was spurred into action, moving from his position and pushing past crowds to cross paths with one of the pairs. His short stature and weightless clothes allowed him to zip through the throng and slipped through openings. His biggest priority was the ocean.

"What should I do?" Fujiwara asked him, waiting for his order.

Koki said without hesitation, "Take some men and follow after the pair going into the marketplace!"

With an urgent transmission sent, he rallied some henchmen to follow him. He bit his thumb in frustration and berated himself for being a short-sighted fool, ultimately blinded by his hubris. He didn't expect the princes to agree and accept Kirishima's offer to ride the honeymoon cruise, especially on such short notice. They did not seem like the type who would spend their leisure time through luxurious recreation. They had stolen the element of surprise from him, but he will not falter and continued the mission with steadfast resolve.

He heard the warning horn for departure in the distance.

"Fujiwara, status report!" he said.

Very soon their connection would be cut once he touched base at the coast. There was not much to be said besides wishing him good luck as Fujiwara chased after one of the pairs. Koki was confident in his friend because they strategized beforehand, mapping out how they would corner the pair and drive them to a dead end. On the other hand, he was entering the cruise blind, but that was why he just had to wing it.

* * *

"Too easy," Katsuki said after turning off the earpiece. "Not too shabby, Bushy Brows."

The real Fujiwara was unconscious at his feet.

"Oi Deku," Katsuki called out, "Tell her to talk. I can't stand this extra's voice any longer."

He was already irked from his get-up, disguised in a long-sleeved princess-silhouette dress with frills and lace like a doll. He was dying to remove these satin white gloves and pumps that were hindering his movements.

"You heard him," Izuku said with a hint of a laugh, amused at the complete contrast between Katsuki's usual rugged look to the soft, feminine appearance he wore now. Pastel looked good on him.

Katsuki may have gone overboard with the lip gloss and the tinted blush in his cheeks, but that was why they managed to ambush Fujiwara undetected. If Izuku did not know better, he would have mistaken Katsuki as an elegant princess who jumped out of a fairy tale. However, Izuku was probably no different in his pleated skirt and black ballet flats, painting his exterior as an innocent young schoolgirl.

"You got it, boss!" Koe said, deactivating her quirk and returning Katsuki's voice back to normal.

"Thank god," the blond said as he cleared his throat. He never knew he would miss the sound of his voice that much. Though Izuku was not outspoken, he agreed. He also missed his friend's loud complaints.

"Oh before I leave," Koe halted before jumping to the fire escape. "Kaminari-kun left you a message."

"Yeah, what is it?"

There was a twinkle in her mocha-colored eyes. "He said thanks."

Katsuki frowned. "What for?"

 _ _For trusting him. For not fighting the enemy alone again.__

However, Koe does not say that. Instead, she said cryptically, "You know why."

"Now if you'll excuse me," she patted Katsuki's head with a teasing smile. She ran off with a peace sign before she received retaliation in the form of an explosion to her face. "I have a mission to complete," she saluted them and slid down fire escape with her heels. Her boisterous laugh, which strangely resembled Toshinori's, echoed in the distance.

"I hate her," Katsuki grumbled as he fixed his wig. Damn that woman. It took an hour to style it.

"She's fun," Izuku said with a perplexed expression. He must have missed a chunk of their conversation because most of the context went over his head. "Remind me," he ignored the uneasy feeling that settled in his gut. "How do you know her?"

A gloved hand reached out to grasp his, and Katsuki stared at him with an inscrutable look, one that seemed haunted and cold, one that was louder than the responded silence. Though Izuku often pushed it to the back of his mind, he was reminded of how little they knew each other.

"There's no time for chit-chat. Let's go nerd," Katsuki led him to the exit. "We have a honeymoon to enjoy." And with that, they made their sweet escape.


End file.
